Linear
by Elanthra
Summary: A tale of two Atlantis cities. What happens to John, when he's discharged from the Air Force? And to Rodney, when he becomes Commander? Shep whump. Touch of Teyla/JS
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

Two AU's that run side-by-side but don't panic if you don't normally read them. Both are close to canon. One more so than the other.

And it's death fiction. Of at least four major characters. But four major characters also live as Linear is about the survivors.

Rating: T for some bad language

Disclaimer: I don't own SGA. I'm sure that in an alternate reality, I do and we're all, at this very moment, waiting in anticipation for Season 6...

* * *

Linear

The Natural Law of Inertia: Every body continues in its state of rest, or of uniform motion in a right line, unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed upon it. _Sir Isaac Newton._

Prologue

There was a police cordon round the car. Fifty or so metres radius. Blue and white tape that flapped and fluttered noisily in the brisk sea breeze. Taking in a section of the parking lot and the higher part of the beach. That held a couple of dozen bystanders back. Though like the cop guarding this perimeter constantly told them... there really was nothing to see... so... go home...

There was really nothing to see... except Colonel Sheppard's battered old wagon...

A Suburu Forrester, Radek had thought the Colonel had told him once... though makes and models meant nothing to Radek, and that hadn't changed even after eight months back on Earth. As long as a car gets him from A to B, he is happy enough...

A forensic team wearing white coveralls were crawling on hands and knees. Inching forward slowly, fine tooth combing the ground close around the vehicle.

A photographer was busy in another area.

Nearby stood the blackened shell of a building. The remains of the surf shack assumed Radek. The faint smell of soot and burnt plastic mingled with that of the rotted seaweed thrown up on the shoreline and drifted through the open window to the backseat of Lennox's car where Radek sat and waited.

He was nervous. He was always nervous around Lennox, the man from the IOA, who... 'fixed' everything for them. And also... Radek had done something... so terribly illegal... He's in such deep trouble... He's certain he's in such deep, deep trouble...

He caught his reflection in the rear view mirror. (The driver who remained at the wheel was watching him?) And saw that his face looked pale and shaken. Not good. But understandable, he thought...

He had been shown the note.

_'Radek. I'm leaving. Thanks. John.'_ Sealed in it's plastic forensic bag.

And Lennox had asked him to confirm that it _was _actually the Colonel's handwriting. And Radek had said that he thought so.

And Lennox had pointed out that it was rather short and abrupt. But that was the Colonel's way. Radek would not have expected any different... no flourishes... no embellishment...

And Lennox had said there was evidence of other fingerprints on the note, that were not Sheppard's.

And the backdoor lock at Sheppard's home had been tampered with. And the neighbours had said that they thought they had heard the intruders' alarm at some point during the previous evening.

'You think that I murdered him?' Radek had asked horrified.

'No... no... but just for the record, when _did _you see him last?'

'In the hotel... immediately before your meeting with him, I think?'

'When you accessed-'

'-Yes! Yes! It was wrong of me to do that! I know! Please!' And Radek had offered Lennox his wrists. And Lennox's eyebrows had gone up in surprise. 'For the handcuffs?' Radek had explained. 'For the arrest? I am guilty!' And the confession of hacking into the IOA computer systems had seemed to take some of the weight off the Czech's mind.

'No. There's no need for that,' Lennox had said, hiding a smirk, 'though a day spent with our guys putting new security protocols in place wouldn't go amiss.'

Radek watched as Lennox finished talking to two other suited men at the corner of the cordon. Lennox then turned and beckoned for Radek to get out of the car.

Radek quickly did so, joining Lennox at his side. He has learned that you do not mess with Lennox.

"So, what do you think? He would take his own life?" asked Lennox. And this was horrible, thought Radek. That Lennox would be relieved if Radek said yes. Because 'no' meant that Colonel Sheppard had been abducted. And there were too many implications then... Trust... or someone... had their hands on him... and access to Stargate intel.

Though the mystery was... clothes and belongings were gone from the house... though not papers... and no cash had been withdrawn from Sheppard's account, or credit cards used, since Sheppard had last been seen... when he'd given Lennox's men the slip... when he'd apparently given Lennox's men the run around... deliberately moving quickly from one area to another before they'd the opportunity to track him... And the car... found abandoned here... with no record of a taxi or a rental being hired from the parking lot... with no record of calls made from Sheppard's phone... And then... the signal from Sheppard's transmitter had suddenly stopped... though Lennox had wondered if that was due to the effects of water... the ocean...

And Radek looked out to the ice blue sea, the air catching at his unruly hair. He squinted against the dazzle of sunlight off the waves. A chopper hovered some half mile out and then sped off again to carry out another sweep of the area... looking for a clue... and Radek shivered... or a body...

"I don't know... Mr. Lennox... You wish for an opinion from me? I don't know..."

"He was depressed? He'd been drinking? There was an empty bottle found on the tide line... of course, it needn't mean anything..." Lennox's tie flapped over his shoulder, teased by the wind and he straightened it, and he fastened the buttons of his suit jacket to hold the tie in place. And he ran a hand through his own hair. And to Radek this was sad. That Lennox was adjusting his clothing in this manner... was concerned about his appearance this way... and did not seem to care what fate had befallen the Colonel.

"He was definitely here though," continued Lennox. "We're sure of it. This is the last spot his transmitter was picked up from. Someone else didn't just drive the car here, to throw us off the scent. There are footprints all over the area, right down to the water's edge, that match his shoe size... that are the same as those on police records. There's no indication of any struggle, at the house or here, though everything's all confused with other beach visitors. Was he meeting someone? I dunno... I always had him down as a bit of a loner... We've asked for witnesses to come forward. So far... nothing... except a couple who _thought_ they saw him... but it was dark... they couldn't be certain..."

And Radek shook his head. "I have no idea or ideas, Mr. Lennox... I am sorry... I am so sorry... I would not wish for the Colonel to come to any harm but... I have no solution to offer..."

-oAo-

Chapter One

Alternate Reality I.

Rodney drinks beer now.

He's sure he never did. Sheppard says otherwise. But Rodney can't remember. Not since that time when he had the virus that affected his brain. Not all his memory came back. Jenny used to say it was pretty damn selective like funny how he never remembered that Tuesday was his allocated laundry day and she had to go down to the machines on Wednesday with two loads when it was hers… though that doesn't matter now that they're married...

She doesn't like him drinking… smelling of the stuff… but it's a man's thing that Rodney does with Sheppard… sometimes with Ronon too when he's not busy chasing after Amelia… They get out on the pier and they're just good buddies… They say things they wouldn't normally say…

'Red skies in the evening are really quite beautiful, you know…' observes Rodney.

'Yeah...'

Well, perhaps Sheppard hasn't quite got the hang of the conversation part yet…

'Yeah? That's all?'

'What d'yer want me to say?' he drawls, not in the least bit concerned about Rodney's complaint.

'Well, something more than just yeah! Perhaps if you read something other than back copies of Marvel and Surfing Today, you might be able to participate more...'

But he's coming along… perhaps the beer helps loosen things up a little… And these times are important for Rodney. Sometimes he just needs a sounding board to bounce off the ideas that he has. He knows that Sheppard is actually mathematically gifted and understands half the scientific theory that Rodney knew twenty years ago… And he knows its important for Sheppard too… to be appreciated for more than just a body guard to a scientist… and Rodney is quite happy to discuss football, _American_ football at that, if that the way Sheppard wants things to go… and… they've always been friends… it just gets said now... no... not said… _felt_… _expressed_ ... simply in the act of sharing a beer or two…

And... apart from sunsets... there are those occasions when their conversations can get quite deep, but he knows that Sheppard will keep up, will put his own slant on things, but even then… you'll only hear the tip of the iceberg stuff... the other nine tenths are held inside. Rodney will just gush his ideas out and hope that something will prove significant…

And he's always surprised how much of an iceberg person Sheppard is… no... no… not cold… not cold… anything but… What you actually get to know is that the tip. There is so much more below the surface. With Rodney, what you see (or hear) is what you get… and you usually 'get' a lot of it... he knows that… he knows his faults… and its one of them... if you don't like it… well, leave would be good advice… He's prepared to change… but only to a degree… there are limits… he'll only ever be able to do so much…

Sheppard would move the Universe.

So it's an honour to be allowed into the inner sanctum, as it were. Rodney knows that drinking beer on the pier, was once something Sheppard usually did in solitude… to get his own thoughts straight…

Sometimes they say nothing… and… that's ok too… if he can sense that Sheppard is ok with that… then that's ok…

Sometimes it's boring to say nothing...

"Life is a line. Discuss," said Rodney, one day.

"What? What brought this on, Rodney?"

"Oh... I dunno... something somebody said earlier and it reminded me of a philosophy tutor I once had... first semester as a freshman... well, not what they _said_ exactly... how they said it... this tutor had a rather large nose, you see... and every time they had a cold-"

"-I don't want to hear this." And Sheppard pulls a face, before drinking more beer.

"Oh... no... well, 'Life is a line. Discuss.' was an essay she set."

"She?"

"Yes... so it made the large nose more unfortunate-"

"-I still don't want to hear..."

"Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against people with big noses... it just... sorta made her memorable... that's all. Anyway, the essay demanded a discourse on determinism... every event is causally determined by an unbroken chain of prior occurences. You know... A leading to B. B leading to C. Logic. And I can't remember now, how I argued the point, but, you know... I was just thinking, life never runs in a straight line, does it? Lines sort of suggest, you know... smooth... easy... and life never is..."

"Being a little pessimistic here, aren't we, Rodney? What about waves? Life definitely comes in waves. You often get a whole load of crap just dumped on you on the low points of those waves, true. But… you can surf the crest of a wave and life feels... well... cool."

"Oh... you think?" and he watches Sheppard sip at his beer, surprised at this degree of forthcomingness. "No. A wave isn't a line. A line by its mathematical definition is a straight curve."

"No bendy bits?"

"No."

"Well, it looks that way when you draw it on paper. A wave looks like a line."

"You're confusing things..." says Rodney irritably. Or was that the beer confusing things? Or him? Whatever... Everything was in danger of getting all mixed up here... philosophy... maths... science... _feelings_...

"Life can be a line... Straight as an arrow... you aim for things..." and Sheppard raises a hand and points out to sea with four fingers, closing an eye, squinting, as if really seeking a target, "but don't always hit the mark..."

"But what about... Life as a circle? Beginning meets the end. The dust to dust, ashes to ashes thing."

And Sheppard considers that but makes no comment.

And they're quiet. And drink more beer. And think more thoughts. Though they're getting kinda of fuzzy round the edges now and not making any real sense... and Rodney has trouble following them... even though they're his own thoughts...

After a while, Sheppard coughs. Awkward with what he's about to say. "If we're all living these so called _lines_... then, here... now... us two... we're on two straight lines... side by side..."

"Parallel."

"Yeah. Like a railway track."

"Well, technically two railway tracks."

"But then that's four straight lines."

"Ok... _four_ straight lines... what's your point?"

"They never touch. Close. But never touch..." _Stretching from infinity. To infinity._ "And in life... well, we all do... sorta... touch... overlap..."

"Carrying on with your railway analogy... if you have a junction... one joins the other..."

"But then the line breaks..."

"Before one line can curve over... to become one... Now hold that thought…" and Rodney extends a finger upwards... expecting some sort of Eureka moment... but... no... its gone... the alcohol is softening Rodney's brain cells by now... and they've gone all sort of gooey and comfy and cushiony... and the relevance of the thought is lost... eluding him... so... he drinks more beer...

-oAo-

A.R. II.

Sheppard skids into the Control Room.

"It's bad," says Rodney. Calmly. He's doing calm while his fingers are flicking over a keyboard, checking data. His eyes say different. He glances up at Sheppard. His eyes say different. Deep down everyone's panicking. And it isn't exactly surprising when the city has just been rocked by the explosion that took out Jumper Three coming in to land.

"How far out?"

"Ten minutes!" warns Chuck.

"Crap!" says Sheppard, frowning. "How'd they get so close without us seeing?" Not that it matters now…

"And those scouts have definitely gone?" The two small unidentifiable craft that launched missiles at Harper and Ferguson. Two more letters of regret to send back home…

"Yes. Probably back to the mother ship," fills in Rodney. And he's making this seem so routine. But this isn't a drill.

"One of Elizabeth's aliens?" asks Woolsey. When the Replicator, Elizabeth had said there were other species out there... somewhere in Pegasus.

"Well, I'm not about to let them come close enough to ask! I'm in the Chair Room. Let me know when they're in range!"

"Yeah, you're on-line and good to go," affirms Rodney, with a dismissive wave of a hand, scarcely looking up from his console.

"We'll be starting evacuation of all non-essential personnel to the Alpha Site immediately?" asks Amelia and she slams the alarm button before Woolsey has a chance to numbly nod back.

It's not said, but ten minutes isn't nearly long enough.

"And Woolsey?" yells Sheppard as he off across the landing, "you need to get Lorne, Teyla, Ronon, all in position!… You know… just in case…" Though John hopes it's not possible. That these guys could manage to send in actual personnel… soldiers… robots… bug eyed green monsters… whatever… But Atlantis has no idea what they're up against. And it's happened before. When Daniel Jackson was here last… " And send me up a jacket and rifle!" He might as well be prepared too.

And Woolsey seems to jerk himself out of his state of shock and he jumps straight to it, a hand tapping on his earpiece.

Ronon's there already.

"Sheppard?"

John just nods as he passes. He doesn't need to say anything. Ronon understands. They're in deep shit and they might not come through this…

He's running up a flight of stairs to the Chair Room, two at a time, swinging round the corner banisters for impetus. Splitting up a group of marines hurrying the other way. It'll all be ok. Everyone knows their places. Their duty. He knows that. It'll be ok.

He's breathless when he's at the door. And he's shaking. He _really_ is shaking. It has to be adrenalin. But he hasn't sat in the Chair for an awful long time. Rodney always bawls at him. It's inaccessible. There's no power. There's no time. It's fucking broken. But now… it's ok. It's gonna be ok.

He settles back in the Chair just as Rodney says 'seven minutes' in his count down. Of course, these guys could start shooting or whatever it is they're planning before then. He's certain they will. They'll be expecting retaliation from Atlantis after what's happened to the Jumper.

But Woolsey comes over the earpiece. "We shouldn't try contacting them first?"

And he knows how Woolsey is thinking. That they might need to keep damage to a minimum. Because they can't get everyone out. That they could buy time.

"I think we're beyond talking it over nicely somehow, don't you?" He doesn't mean to be sarcastic. He knows that Woolsey means well. Woolsey's just got to trust that John can take them out first. And if that fails, that the shield will hold. That they'll have enough drones. That they have enough power. That these guys haven't got superior weapons. It'll be ok… not too many things stacked up against them then...

He leans the Chair back. Waiting for Rodney's go ahead. He closes his eyes. He relaxes. His breathing slows. His heart stops racing. It's always like this for him. He's seen other guys. Carson included. Tense right up. But its never been like that for John. The blue seems to take him. He becomes a part of the blue light. He's absorbed. He becomes the city's eyes and ears…

He sees dark space beyond… stars…

He sees a darker shadow against the dark… no words… no thoughts… he just knows… the darker shadow means threat…

"Six minutes," says Rodney.

Sheppard fires anyway.

The drones seem to leave his arms, his hands, as gleaming lights. He is in blue light. He and Atlantis are pure blue light sending out lines of destruction to the dark shadow.

He jerks with the impact. He's gone with the drones, spinning, piercing space, guiding, showing, feeling the way.

And he doesn't need Rodney to give him a damage assessment.

Nothing happened.

He opens his eyes quickly, breaking the contact.

"They have shields?" he yells into his earpiece.

"No... not exactly..."

"Rodney! They either do or they don't!"

"There's a shield... it's patchy... I think they're relying on some form of armour... something that's close to impenetrable... but... keep with the hitting… its already weakening! One place in particular... sending you vid now." And a screen bursts into life above Sheppard's head. The space ship. Itself like a giant drone. "We're picking up energy readings.. that are off the scale... their subspace drive... or... But…"

"Or? But? Rodney!" _Make sense..._

And Rodney's talking his fastest ever now because time is running out… "Or they have an impulse weapon... But they're using power to accelerate. My guess is they mean to get to their weapons range a whole lot sooner before firing, before allowing us to cut through their armour!"

"They mean to get closer? What are they going to do? Throw stones at us?" No. All indications are that they mean to board Atlantis.

"We're ready with our own shields if…you… don't… finish… them…" trails off Rodney…a tremor… the first time there's any sign of worry in the scientist's voice… he's getting good though… five years back and he would have been in full panic mode by now…

Ok.

And John closes his eyes and concentrates once more. Again and again the drones hit that one target. He's not so relaxed now. Effort like hitting the leather punch bag over and over, waiting for that split, that one split to open…

And then a noise… a high pitched grinding… he flinches… a bang… and he flinches again… the city… himself… no longer in blue light… purple through to red… a second… a second only… everything is red… blood red… deeper… darker red… black… veins and arteries trailing off… a memory… not his memory… Sam's… Atlantis is showing him… towers falling… blue lightning striking at towers… another bang… a rumbling… a feel of static in the air… his head feels like its going to explode… all this stuff in his head… and the noise again… unfamiliar... he can't place it...

He's stays with Atlantis… he stays with her… because... because she's dying… she knows she's dying… she's screaming at him… that's the noise Atlantis makes when she's dying… and Rodney is screaming at him too… or just plain screaming… but he can't listen to the two of them… the grinding, screeching are her cries for help… and he can't do anything… the banging continues… the black against the red pulsates and continues… the lightning… the images in his head of masonry falling… of guys running for cover continues… the lightning… realization… the alien weapon… a bolt of blue shooting out from the vessel… like Oberoth's weapon… and its slicing into Atlantis… cutting into her…

And then Rodney… "Sheppard! Sheppard! It's broken through our shield! It's targeting the Chair! Get the hell out of there! Now! Now! Now!"

…cutting, slicing through to the Chair room… and his world is blue again… sheer blue… and the noise is deafening… grinding, grating, banging into his very skull… the room seems to move… no… _it is_ moving… black cracks that claw across the surfaces… the floor, tsunami like, suddenly heaves up before the beam… and the Chair and Sheppard are pushed up on the wave of rubble… the beam catches at the armrest and he screams a scream that can't be heard as he's thrown out the Chair by the blast… as the ceiling caves in… and its wipe out… twisting, fighting for hold and air… in an ocean solid with dirt and dust and grit… and its all still now… but the wave holds him down tight… and its pain now… red pain that fills his head… shoots down his back… his arms… his legs… not Atlantis' pain… his own… and it ends... and the world goes silent…

-oAo-


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Alternative Reality. I.

"An encrypted communiqué? From Command? Why wasn't I told?"

"Because, Rodney," said Sheppard, "it wasn't addressed to you. And when I last checked, communiqués, especially secrety encrypted ones, usually go to the name written at the top. And that wasn't you. That was Woolsey."

And they reached the top of the Gateroom stairs.

"Secrety, huh?"

"Yeah, secrety." And Sheppard turned to go to Woolsey's office where he'd been summoned.

"And you're not going to tell me what it's about?" And Sheppard stopped and faced Rodney, feeling infinitely patient with the scientist today… but that was because he probably welcomed any opportunity to watch Rodney squirm… especially when it was Rodney's ego that was causing him to do said squirming…

"No, Rodney. Because secrety usually means just that. It's secret."

"Why wasn't I called to his office?"

"I don't know…" considered Sheppard, "perhaps Woolsey doesn't like you anymore and doesn't want you to come round and play?"

Rodney pulled a face and turned to head for the Control Room. When he had a sudden thought, calling over to Sheppard who was now a quarter way along the landing to Woolsey's office.

"You don't know what its about either, do you, Sheppard?" And Sheppard simply shrugged, before heading on in through the door to Woolsey's office.

And Rodney remained standing where he was, watching the Colonel through the glass panel. And he had that annoying scratching-at-you sort of curiosity that meant you wanted to turn into a fly and be on a wall. He could see Sheppard's face. Genial one moment. Deadly serious the next. And he hadn't even sat down. And that wasn't good. No. That definitely wasn't good. Rodney couldn't explain it but… a sense of foreboding?

Oh no, no, no, no. Leave that to the seers of this Universe… and he stepped up into the Control Room.

"Chuck…" because it'd been Chuck or Amelia who'd taken the message.

And Chuck furiously shook his head from side to side in a please-don't-ask-me sort of way. And he pretended then to be very busy. And Rodney looked at Amelia. Who simply hid her eyes under a hand. An ostrich with its head in the sand. And pretended Rodney really couldn't see her. They'd both heard every word between him and Sheppard.

He tried bribery.

"I don't suppose I could interest either of you with a promise of doing double shifts for you, hmm? Hmm?"

He thought not…

And Rodney looked across to the office again. And Sheppard had sat down now. And Rodney who prided himself on his twenty twenty vision… which he'd always guessed was something to do with being a genius, that and possessing long fingers… and no, he never would stoop so low as to give phrenology any credence… but… he often wondered… anyway… he could see that Sheppard was looking… well, there was only one word to describe it… and it worked like bio-feed on that growing sense of foreboding… but Sheppard was looking despondent… and the number of times Sheppard had looked like that before was… somewhere in the region of… zero… no… probably one… when Rodney had asked to be fed on by Todd… no… two… when Sheppard had been fed on by the Iratus Bug… well, it wasn't many times… and it still meant this definitely was not good…

That line of life seemed like it was on a decidedly bad turn downwards…

AR. II.

He coughs. Coughs, splutters again. His heaving shoulders hitting hard surfaces all round… reminding him… he is trapped… He wants to raise a hand to clear his face and eyes, that grit and hurt like hell. His hand... he tenses, growling into the pain… and passes out again…

...A dream of the great white bird… albatross like… aschatee the Ancients had called them… that fly in from the Mainland… and find the thermals that spiral round the towers of Atlantis… gliding smooth and effortless… and he watches… spell bound… following its line of flight… hardly a feather moves… a slight tremor at wing tips to dip down, or to soar upwards again… they do this for no other reason… than… the pure hell of it… he can understand it… he can understand the ecstasy, the joy of it… he's there with the bird… flying…

...And suddenly… as is the way of dreams… he sees smoke curl from the top of one tower… and masonry cracks away… smashing to the piers far below… or crashing into the sea with white frothing turbulence… and more towers disintegrate… one by one…

...She is showing him… it is Atlantis showing him… it is Atlantis showing him her own death… the aschatee is screaming… a call of dismay… I can't help you! he shouts… I can't help you!... one tower is roofless… revealing the floor that holds the Chair... one wall remains that threatens to collapse also… rubble scattered… the Chair is broken in half and lies inverted… partially hidden under debris... a human form trapped under the Chair… she is showing him… she is showing him that the Chair protects him even now…

...And then… like dreams again… the aschatee is screaming as she plummets from the sky… a bolt of blue lightning takes her down… it is unlucky to kill the albatross, they say, perhaps it is also unlucky to kill the aschatee… her wings are torn… spotted with blood… she is spinning… spinning out of control… and he is falling and screaming with her… he can't stop this… he can't stop this… he can't stop this…

…Wakes suddenly… face wet with perspiration... blinks and remembers not to move this time… mustn't move… if he doesn't move he can bear the pain… breaths that are short and panting… keep him still… keep it that way… though he's trembling… and that would be… would be… the cold… he tries to focus… eyes smart... vision smeared and watery... something immediately in front... can't make it out... a slab... concentrates and it becomes clearer... dust slowly trickling over a slab of something... it's not dark… like the time he was trapped with Ronon… there's daylight… on three sides… and cold air coming from all around… the top of the tower's gone?... and he shifts instinctively to try and see what's holding him down… _Christ! Christ! Christ! John! keep the fuck still!..._ grunts out through clenched teeth… quick inhales that he hardly dare allow... the only way he can breathe… the only way he can _live_… fighting the nausea… because hell, he'd hate to puke here… he watches the dust settling again… can't hear it… can't hear the dust… he's gone deaf too… watches the dust… trembling… panting… the dust is slowly turning pink… red… realizes… realizes the slab of something… is… must be… though he can't feel it... is his own hand… and… and… and… that's bad… that's bad… needs to stop… blood loss… he's got to stop that somehow… somehow… though… somehow… somehow… the mess of his hand… arm… it looks… too late… and what's the point?… it's quiet… everyone else is dead or dying too… no… no… he just can't hear… that's all... they're there... somewhere... he just can't hear... radio… radio for help… it's gone… knocked off… ok… ok… what doesn't hurt?… his right leg… not so bad… deep breath, John… and push… do that… push this thing off… and he nearly laughs… because he can see now… what's on top… the broken Chair… and the Chair is supposed to save them all… and here it is… killing him… how much does one of these weigh?... _fucking damn lot_…_ no! no! no! keep still! Christ!..._ a vibration through the floor… the tower's going to collapse?... he senses movement… somewhere… behind… the aliens have landed?... oh God… that hurts… that hurts to laugh… 'aliens have landed?'… like in some 'B' movie… way to go, John… die laughing…

Ronon.

"Ronon… Ronon, help… " And pride has to go because… hell, he really does need the help… And Ronon is only a fuzzy blur. And he's saying something that John can't hear. But John feels safer now. And John watches mesmerized, as Ronon bandages up his hand… because… because… he can't feel a thing… he can't feel his hand… and he can't recognize anything that looks like a hand… and the blood is already seeping through the white…

And his hearing sort of cracks... and Ronon's voice filters through... "This is going to be rough... I've got to carry you... the Medics are through the Gate already... get the Chair off... turn you over... ok?"

Yeah... now it's been explained... he has no problem... piece of cake...

And Ronon is pulling at the Chair and… it's like… it's like a knife in his back… and he's crying out… and the world instantly goes black again…

AR. I.

Sheppard came storming out of Woolsey's office. Storming the right word. If they'd been black clouds hanging over Sheppard right now, Rodney wouldn't have been surprised.

He came leaping up onto the step of the Control Room.

"We need a Gate dial-up to Earth! One hour! And I don't want to hear _anyone_ say _anything_ about not having enough power!" And it's his best don't-mess-with-me look… so… they wouldn't dare say anything… even if there isn't any power. And there probably isn't.

And Sheppard left. Without saying a word to Rodney. If Rodney has never seen Sheppard despondent before, well, he's never seen Sheppard this angry before either… except that time maybe… well, that had been Rodney's fault and Rodney probably deserved it. Rodney looked up wide eyed. And then at Chuck and Amelia. But they weren't surprised. They, the lucky bastards knew what was going on and still weren't saying. Chuck simply shrugged.

So Rodney was quickly leaving too and caught up with Sheppard at the nearest transporter.

"Hold on, hold on, Sheppard! You can't do this!"

"What? What can't I do?!" And Sheppard had his hands on his hips and he's fuming. "Just watch me!"

"Well, if you told me what it is you're going to do, then perhaps I can tell you what it is you can't do?" Did that just make sense? " But for starters, you can't… not tell me what's going on… especially… since… um…" Well, curiosity aside, he really wanted to know what was so bothering Sheppard…

"They're going to shut us down, Rodney!"

And Rodney's more wide eyed than ever. He'd be even more wide eared if that were possible…

"Sorry? Did-"

"-They're going to shut us down! The IOA! Command!" And Sheppard slammed the transporter pad. "We have fourteen days to clear up and get out." The doors opened and he entered. "The Daedalus is on its way to help and its _not_ bringing us anymore supplies."

And that sounded final then.

Sheppard selected the floor to his quarters. Rodney drew himself in and quickly followed before the doors swished to a close behind him. Sheppard's just not concentrating. He'd come that close to slicing a hunk out of Rodney's backside.

"Why would they want to do that? We're meeting all our targets?" demanded Rodney. And they've been plagued with the things ever since Woolsey's arrival. Rodney's made sure all the science dept.'s figures are so confusing that no one can do any thing but rubber stamp them. Rodney's a great scientist but he's pretty nifty in the statistical department too. And he knows that an awful lot of Wraith have been killed lately. So that's Sheppard's quota dealt with… though Rodney could cook those too if asked…

The door re-opened to the personnel quarters floor and Rodney jogged along behind Sheppard.

"Funds," muttered Sheppard, "they say they can't provide anymore funding."

"But they promised!" And Rodney realized that he sounded like a child who's just been denied treats after supper. "I've seen the budget. It's all been cleared…" When Woolsey had problems with his laptop and Rodney fixed things for him… he couldn't help seeing… though Rodney would have looked anyway… he's just naturally inquisitive…

They'd reached Sheppard's door and Sheppard turned round to finish the conversation. And he'd simmered down.

"We're going to Earth to get to the bottom of this… we'll get it sorted Rodney… I'm not about to let this happen, not without a fight…"

"_We're_ going?"

"Woolsey and me. You're in charge here."

Responsibility… leadership for Rodney… and now he's suddenly been handed it, he's not no sure...

"I thought Woolsey had always said that one or the other of you has to stay on Atlantis?"

"You wanna go and talk to these guys?... Look," and Sheppard shuffled his feet, looked down at them and then back up at Rodney. "I have stuff to pack…" And Rodney knew, he could see it in Sheppard's eyes that the Colonel was thinking that this is going to be one of the toughest things that he has ever had to do.

Rodney nodded.

"I'll get round in time and see to Lorne," promised Sheppard, "he'll be there to help." And Rodney wasn't offended that Sheppard thought he might need it.

"And you've gotta tell Teyla… apologize for me… say goodbye for me... when she gets back from visiting her folks… I'd said I'd be here." And he went all sort of distant and bit his lip… and then he was back again… to pat Rodney's arm briefly. "It'll be ok, Rodney. We'll get it sorted. It'll be ok." And he turned to activate the door controls. And Rodney wasn't certain who it was that Sheppard was trying to convince.

"And Ronon? Ok to tell him too?" asked Rodney.

"Yeah. 'Course…"

And later at the Gate, it was embarrassed farewells.

"Hey… hm… good luck, then."

"Thank you, Dr. McKay, we'll probably need it," said Woolsey, clutching at the handle of his small suitcase.

"Yeah, yeah… thanks," said Sheppard, with a hold all thrown over his shoulder.

And Sheppard glanced back as he stepped into the Gate… the look on his face… as if it were his last look at Atlantis… ever…

AR. II.

He's falling… and lands hard on the ground… moaning… and rolls to one side… any side that might not hurt so much… no side then… still the short gritting breaths… and can't stop shaking… there's a dull banging… and… and… the alarm that Amelia put on what seemed centuries ago, is still wailing… Ronon?... Ronon, we've got to go… he blearily opens his eyes… and his vision spins... and he feels so sick, so dizzy... forces his brain to try and make some sense out of what he's seeing… he's not on top of the Tower anymore… where?... and where's Ronon?... doesn't recognize anything… rubble lying everywhere… guys running… diving for cover… shouting… debris smashing down… clouds of dust and smoke swirling around... small fires... exposed pipes... wires... that spark yellow and weird in the fog... and masonry falls even at his feet… he draws his legs in… but only his right responds… and pain cuts up his left side… whimpers catch in his throat with the effort... lays still... must lay still... peers down… his whole left side a bloodied mess… he's seen blast burns before… must have happened in the Chair… and… and… his right arm's useless and broken… another chunk of concrete or whatever slides down near his head… he shifts to avoid it, grunting at the shooting pain down his side… it's not that close… if it had been, he knows he couldn't react that quickly… they need to move… get to cover… to the Gate even… he can't… he's helpless… he really needs Ronon… Ronon was carrying him earlier… before he ended up in a heap on the floor… he's sure of that… Ronon had said he would... and he remembers... once... watching a strange world, coloured orange and dusty, swinging in rhythm to Ronon's footfalls... Ronon?... where's the guy?... Ronon?... he pushes himself up against the wall he's fallen near… keeping those breaths shallow... and twists to look the other way…

Ronon!

But even if he could speak… even if he could say something above the confusion that's all round… Ronon won't be hearing anymore…

No… buddy… no… no…

Blood still seeping, soaking though dreadlocks. A gash to the side of the head.

No... no...

"Colonel! Colonel!" And a voice chokes through the thick air.

And it's Lorne staggering over… and he crashes down beside Sheppard, back sliding down the wall, gasping, shuddering with his own pain, sweat and dirt all over his face, leaning his head back… squeezing his eyes tight…

"Gotta get out of here!"

"Ronon…" Sheppard mumbles.

And Lorne looks around now, not comprehending at first and then sees Ronon, and takes a deep breath and struggles across Sheppard to close the Satedan's eyes.

"Thanks…" says Sheppard feebly… he's so weak now… he's not going to make it to the Gate and Lorne can't help him...

More debris suddenly falls from above…

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Will this never stop!" yells Lorne, ducking. But Sheppard doesn't react… he's too weak… he's dying with Atlantis...

A gaping hole… now two floors up… Atlantis is dying…

Lorne's swallowing hard and fumbling in his tac vest's pocket now, to bring out dressing. He reaches for Sheppard hand and rolls the bandage messily over the top of Ronon's, talking, choking because of the dust as he does so… the siren is still loud and debris falls further back down the corridor…

"Gotta get out of here, Colonel! Rodney's holding off with the self-destruct… waiting for stragglers… but…" and he shakes his head… "there isn't any… lost too many people today… There's just two more Marines I set to watch the ship… and us…"

"The ship?" Sheppard's asks dazed, words slurred over dry lips.

"Yeah… those guys have landed on the North Pier… we think they're licking their wounds… you really must have done some damage… no sign of them yet… matter of time… they've stopped firing… just waiting… till its safe to move in… when this stuff stops..." And he ties off the bandage.

"The… the self destruct?"

"Can't risk them getting through the Gate. Come on… gotta get you outta here."

"No… get me to Rodney!" he spits out somehow.

"Colonel… no… can't let you…"

A couple of dark shapes suddenly in the haze of dust. Two marines. And Lorne calls them over. They haul John up and he yells out as they start to carry him.

And he hates this... hates leaving Ronon behind...

And Lorne follows, limping, holding onto a wall for support, ducking from another near miss from above.

And they had been only metres from the Control Room… and the siren is deafening… and he can see Rodney, frantically working at consoles, taking over from Chuck, Amelia, Radek, in turn, urging, pushing all three, one by one, towards the Gate.

"Take me over there! Take me over there!" John orders, biting back the agony and the darkness. He's not going to pass out… not now…

"We have to get out, Colonel!" Lorne repeats.

And a whole section of ceiling falls down immediately behind them, sending all four sprawling to the floor. One marine groans and another is motionless and there's no sign of Lorne.

There's no sign of Rodney either. The dust is settling but there's no sign of Rodney.

John sets his mouth hard and hitches himself forward on his one good hip and leg. Hissing with the pain. Trembling. Shaking. His useless arms trailing at his sides. Inch by inch. Slow. Past a console. Pushes against something soft. A body. A jacket thrown over the head. Its Woolsey… no… no… how much more…

And then there's Rodney… sitting on the floor beneath a console, a flap open, trying to fix crystals… cuts all over his face. But unharmed.

"Rodney…"

"Christ! What happened to you?!" And Rodney slams the flap shut. And the siren goes quiet. And Rodney crawls over to him on all fours. "Sheppard! I thought Ronon had gotten you out!"

"He's… Rodney… he's dead…"

More debris shatters down around them and Rodney shelters them both with his body. And Sheppard thinks Rodney didn't hear him… can't repeat it because he's fighting the darkness… he has something that's probably more important to say…

"The self destruct…" forces out Sheppard.

"Doing it now…"

"The self des…des…" he can't talk… the pain's too great again… he's fighting the dark again… Rodney knows his question though… and Sheppard knows the answer… because that's why Rodney's still here…

"Yeah… it's doing its usual trick… got to be done manually…"

John's breathing hard and tight into his words. Only way… only way he's ever going to get them out. "Gotta be me…"

And Rodney stares at him oddly and he seems nearly amused by the idea.

"And how do you intend doing that, Sheppard? You know? Two damaged arms?" His voice... not critical... kindly, benign... an oasis in the chaos...

"Set it up… so I can… one button…"

"No. No time. Nothing's functioning right. Can't be done… sorry… you're not going to get to play hero today… you're not going to play at captain going down with the sinking ship. "

"Rodney... no… gotta be me… am… am… nearly…"

"Nearly dead? Don't think so! Not you! Mr Indestructible, that's you! Now get out of here while you still can."

"Don't do this, Rodney…"

"Get him out of here! Get him out of here!"

And his two marines are there again and they're pulling him up and he cries out because, jeez, it hurts… And the room is spinning and going dark but he needs to keep awake… he needs to persuade Rodney…

"No… Rodney… No."

"Don't John… don't… don't make this harder than it is already… just go… just go will you?" And Sheppard knows its bad when Rodney calls him John.

And more ceiling is crashing down and they duck and struggle towards and down the stairs. And every jolt, every movement shoots more agony down his side, through his arms.

"And… And John?" calls Rodney after them. "Promise me!… You promise me you'll live, huh? Go and live. Do that for me!… A favour!… I'm sure you owe me one!… And John?… Thanks, huh?"

And John tries to focus, to concentrate, to hear and its so damn… so damn not easy…

And he's aware that Lorne's there stumbling across the wreckage too, still hurting too. His face screwed up with pain.

"I'm closing the Gate, Lorne! Once you're through!"

And Lorne nods. They all know it's to stop the explosion hitting the Alpha Site.

"Rodney… Don't… Don't…" John murmurs… But he can't fight… he can't fight… he has to allow this to happen… and he looks back… tries… tries to get things clear in his head… tries to fix that image there… Rodney standing alone at the Control Room railings... before the wormhole takes them…

… the last he ever sees of Dr. Rodney McKay…

-oAo-


	3. Chapter 3

_Going away for a few days now... but hope to update on Weds provided I can get dial-up to work in rural Portugal... How's that for dedication! Nice long chapter in the meantime..._

* * *

Chapter Three

Alternative Reality I.

The great white birds that the Ancients called the aschatee and that bear a striking resemblance to the albatross back on Earth, swoop and dive around the towers of Atlantis.

Rodney watches from the Control Room balcony.

He's bored.

And really this commander of Atlantis thing isn't what it's cracked up to be. So far, there's been no apocalyptic decisions of soul defying magnitude to be… well, decided upon. So far there's been no demands, no testing of his heroism, his manliness. So far, that morning, he's been busy with a screwdriver fixing a lose hinge on the door of Jenny's clothes closet. Not that he needed to be an Acting Commander to do that, necessarily. But the point is, that he's had _the time_ to do that. Usually, he'd be telling Jenny, in the nicest possible way, of course, that he hadn't said time. That Pegasus called… that Atlantis called… that his Team called… that he'd just have to go, because he was so indispensable… that only Dr. Rodney McKay would do when everyone called… But now he's Acting Commander, there seemed a marked shortage of calling. In fact, it's beginning to feel like everyone is doing quite nicely without Dr. McKay, thank you very much, and everyone seems to be quietly going about their daily business, completely oblivious that they even _have_ a newly appointed Acting Commander…

The novelty is wearing off… if it had ever been painted on in the first place… and Rodney has an uncomfortable feeling… that it hadn't…

All that call are the aschatee outside the window. A sort of a low cawing… that echoes in the wind, through the alleyways and round the piers far below…

Which is strange. Because as far as Rodney can remember… they never did… call. Now, is that a bad omen of something or other? No… Rodney didn't believe in bad omens… course not… and anyhow… it was all to do with the albatross… not the aschatee... and you had to shoot one of those… and no one seems to be doing any shooting… thankfully... so... omens had no connection with the birds actually calling out… but he shivers all the same…

Of course, being bored isn't helped with the tedium of waiting. And that is Sheppard's and Woolsey's fault.

An hour late with their scheduled message already.

And he isn't the only one bored. Teyla sits with an elbow up on a console. Sleepy eyed. She'd gotten back from New Athosia late last night and insisted she was jet lagged. Rodney had tried to explain that you just didn't get jet lagged coming through the Gate. But she'd insisted all the more that she was, with those wide beautiful eyes of hers… (and yes, Rodney is still head over heels in love with his wife, Jenny, but you had to admit that if there was ever a competition for the most beautiful eyes in the Universe… and he hopes he isn't a male chauvinist for thinking of such a thing… Teyla would win hands down…) Of course, she'd gotten the idea from Sheppard… he really is teaching her bad ways… 'I can't do your ATA gene testing, today, Rodney,' he'd drawled once. 'And why not?' Rodney had snapped back, waiting for the next excuse because he knew that Sheppard hated it when Rodney asked him to test yet another piece of newly discovered Ancient technology that often turned out to be nothing more than an egg slicer. 'Came through the Gate late last night…" and he'd yawned, 'think I might be suffering from jet lag…'

And Ronon is bored too, leaning back in a chair, with two long legs crossed up on another console.

Rodney strides over and pushes the offending boots off… no mean feat really…

"I wish you wouldn't do that!" And Rodney starts to rub the surface of the console with his cuff.

"Do what?" replies Ronon like some truculent teenager.

"That! You know, putting your feet up… it always leaves a mark!" Ok… perhaps that isn't the most Commanderly of Commander things to say but he's getting irritable as well as bored with the waiting…

The Gate alarm sounds.

"Unscheduled Gate activation!" Announces Chuck in his best unscheduled gate activation voice.

Well, of course, it's unscheduled _now_, over an hour late.

And they crowd round Chuck's shoulders watching the screen in anticipation.

"It's encrypted," explains Chuck… which was sort of odd…

"What does it say?" asks Ronon.

"Give him a chance and he'll tell you!" Of course, Rodney isn't impatient, of course not.

" 'We've… found something.'" And Chuck looks up at them, one at a time, surprised as they are… "That's it. We've found something."

"That is all?" asks Teyla, disappointment in those brown eyes of hers.

"No. No. No. That's can't be right! You must have shut it down too soon!" and Rodney pushes Chuck to one side, busy stabbing at buttons, cross-checking. Then he slows down…

"Actually… that's… all it _does _say…" And he looks at Teyla apologetic. You'd have thought Sheppard would have said more… not that he was ever going to tell Sheppard how to run his marriage but surely something along the lines of 'Hi, honey, I'm missing you and the kids' wouldn't have gone amiss. After all, it's been a week since Teyla last saw him before her visit back home. And Rodney knows from personal experience that a week away from Jenny would be almost unbearable. And then being told that her husband might have to return to Earth permanently. Some sympathy surely should have been called for.

Amelia is the one who comes to the Colonel's defence and at the same time offers some feminine assurances to Teyla.

"There's greater security with a shorter encrypted message. The smaller signal burst it entails is hardly detectable if anyone was looking. And it explains the hour's delay. It's late at night on Earth now… reducing further, any chances of detection. Colonel Sheppard and Commander Woolsey were just being very careful."

"Why? Why would they need to be careful?" asks Ronon. "I thought they were just going to talk… about this… money thing?" Even now, after a handful of visits to Earth, Ronon can't get his head round the Earth concept of coinage.

And Teyla is looking very concerned now.

"This is true. What is John doing that he would need to be... 'careful'? What is it, do you think, that they have… 'found'?" And they both look to Rodney for answers. And Rodney just looks back at them blankly. He's Acting Commander of Atlantis and he has… no answers…

"Can't we just send a message back and ask?" suggests Ronon.

"I believe that would not be a wise decision," says Teyla bravely. "The message tells us very little but it implies a need for secrecy and we have to be cautious not to jeopardise that for John and Commander Woolsey. We have to trust that they know what it is they are undertaking." She is really hurting that she has to accept this. "I only hope… that they are not in any actual danger? That could not happen, could it, Rodney?"

"No. No. This is Stargate Command. How could they be?"

"Then, I will go and tell my sons that their father is apparently well and will return shortly." But she doesn't sound or look convinced and goes to leave. And Rodney really feels for her. And the way that Ronon looks down at and shuffles with his feet and then looks up, and looks straight at Rodney, is a good indicator that he does too.

And it seems to Rodney as he catches a glimpse of the spiralling aschatee through the window again, and as he has that sense of foreboding again, whilst simultaneously acknowledging that senses of foreboding do not actually exist, that the line on the graph of universal happiness is on the verge of a further sharp plummet downwards…

AR. II.

He dreams of the aschatee.

Slow, slow beat of pure white wings. In time with his own heart. Slow, slow flight against a sparkling crystalline sea. In time with his own breath…

Circling. Black eyes searching… Waters calm and even… empty… Where is she?... Where is Atlantis?

No more, the aschatee cries, Atlantis is no more…

How many times has he done that now? Woken. Body and eyes heavy and a head buried soft and comfy in pillows, senses numbed by painkillers… a second… and then he realises that this is not Atlantis… that Atlantis has gone… that Ronon stared up to space once, unseeing, that Woolsey laid slumped on a Control Room floor, that Rodney… How can you _wake up_ to a nightmare?

And he has a feeling… because she hasn't visited him… he is certain of that… because he has not heard her voice through the haze that is in his head… because of the way others talk in whispers around him… and his stomach turns with dread at the thought… that Teyla perished on Atlantis too…

So he sleeps… lets the drugs take him there… and its painless anyway…

He wakes… and knows its for longer this time… his head is clearer… aches less… he guesses that Carson's been weaning him off whatever it is they put in the IV's… he's still reluctant to open his eyes… ok, slightly… but the light instantly hurts… so he doesn't, and listens instead… the wind is flapping at the canvas of the hospital tent… rain splatters heavily… there must be a leak somewhere because he can hear the dripping and clinking into a metal container nearby… and knowing Carson's humour that would be a bed pan… there's a droning murmur of voices… occasionally someone calls out… the tent is warm… he can hear the humming of the generator outside… and knows that if a gale is blowing they'd be a heater in here somewhere… but the tent is warm because there are too many beds in here… too many casualties…

He forces open his eyes… its time he did… but it has that feel… that first day of the rest of your life feel… that nothing is going to have the same feel… ever again… and its for all the wrong reasons…

When he'd woke, he'd shifted… one slight move and his injuries were all too familiar… best keep still then… but he cranes his neck and blearily makes a quick check on things... before the effort is too much... before he collapses back against the pillow… gasping… he knows that shouldn't have been that difficult… but he's sort of relieved all the same… his hand is swaddled and bandaged like the white medical equivalent of a boxing glove… but it's still there… and he did wonder... though, as on the Tower, he feels nothing...

...and he puts an instant stop to feeling glad… it's wrong to feel like that… just so wrong… when the others…

"Colonel? Awake now?"

And it's Carson in his cloudy side vision.

"Yeah… just…" he rasps because his throat is so dry.

"Like some water?"

"Yeah." And instinctively he goes to reach for the jug himself. It's crazy because he damn well can't with his two dud arms. His right shoulder and arm are completely encased in plaster.

"That's something you're going to have to get used to, asking for help," says Carson, pouring out the drink and popping in a straw and offering the glass to his mouth.

He gratefully drinks, slowly coming round to the idea just how helpless he _is_ going to be…

And then, he sees the lines of beds… and Carson follows his gaze.

"Too many…" says Carson in reply to the unasked question. His voice is low and soft. His eyes back to Sheppard, full of hurt. "Thirty eight didn't make it through the Gate." And Carson falls silent, swallowing hard. And its wrong to name those names and to put them in any sort of order... they were all souls lost… But he knows that Carson is remembering at least one, more than most… "Forty two injured. Thankfully half were cuts and bruises. Thirteen critical. Two passed away the first night, one the second. Another two are still fighting…" and he looks over to a curtained off corner of the tent, and he shakes his head in sheer disbelief. "Fraser and McCormick, two of…" and he doesn't want to mention the name that is on the tip of his tongue… "two of... Rodney's scientists."

John closes his eyes tight… not in denial, no… but then… he just doesn't want to hear this… wishes he didn't need to…

"Don't blame yourself, Colonel. We got unlucky, that's all…" And Lorne is there on his other side, leaning on a crutch.

"Unlucky… yeah…" And he shut those eyes again. That was one way to describe it he supposed… but it'd happened on his shift… he had been in charge… all those guys had been in his care… his responsibility… how could he but not help feel he'd let them all down?… his friends… let his friends down… perhaps if he'd just concentrated a little harder in the Chair… just that little more effort… they'd all be here… they'd all be here… forty one dead… forty one dead… Rodney, Ronon, Woolsey… perhaps if he hadn't gotten himself hurt… he could have helped with the evacuation… or at least… at least… Rodney would be safe and sound now… not him… not him… he shouldn't be here…

Then he remembers her…

He springs open his eyes. He chokes out her name. "Teyla?"

And Lorne looks away. He doesn't want to say. By his expression, he'd known on Atlantis and hadn't wanted to say.

"I went back with four men to look for stragglers? Included Teyla and her group... I'm sorry." John just stares at the foot of the bed. Letting numbness take him. Because he doesn't want to feel this now. He doesn't want to feel this for Teyla. He bites his lip. Fighting tears. "Never did find them. The going just got too tough. I'm sorry. I really am." Lorne pauses and then continues. "Lost all my men too. I can't believe how I got out of there… but I did… I did… so I can understand, Colonel… how you must be feeling… coz it seems damned wrong somehow… to be one of the survivors…"

He quickly asks another question... to hide behind the words. "Her… her family… her people have been told?"

"Yeah… yeah they have."

He nods, knowing how difficult that must have been. And he wishes that Lorne hadn't been the one left to do it. He should have been the one… He should at least have done that for Teyla…

Torren John. He remembers telling Teyla how the boy would be treated as family. And they'd all done that… Rodney, Ronon, John... Seen him as kin… been like uncles, godfathers… Now he's let him down… Atlantis had made Teyla a daughter but has made her son motherless… And he can imagine, feel the grief of Kaanan and the Athosians. He should have been the one to have told Kanaan. He should have been there, should have least have done that. And he guesses that the Daedalus will be picking the survivors up shortly and he is never going to get his chance to express his regret and to say he is sorry. To say good bye… He makes up his mind…

"I've got to see Kanaan, Halling…" And cries out at the sudden movement, falling back from the spasm of pain piercing his left side.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're going nowhere, sonny boy!" warns Carson reaching for his shoulders. And Lorne stands up straight, alarmed too.

"What's… what's wrong with me?" he asks, clenching his teeth, trying to get his breaths to slow, staring down at his side, trying to comprehend.

"Four hours of surgery removing little pieces of Atlantean Chair and nearly losing your own weight in blood is what's wrong with you. Don't you fret yourself. We'll get Kanaan and Halling to you."

"The Chair saved you from the worst of the beam. The armrest shattered but it stopped it dead. We saw it on vid. The Chair was thrown over… and you with it… but the beam passed over the top… You are one lucky guy, Colonel," explains Lorne.

He didn't feel it.

"The stuff it's made of is pretty tough… but it doesn't work wonders embedded in a pelvic bone… neither on the downturn, falling on an arm and shoulder either… yeah, you're lucky alright that you weren't crushed to death…" puts in Carson.

"My hand…"

"Yes, well... that's where the luck ran out..." says Carson sympathetically. "Third degree burns all down the arm… I've done my best re-attaching the three fingers that you nearly lost… but… I'm sorry… I hate telling patients this… not so soon any rate… There's extensive nerve and ligament damage. I doubt if you'll ever regain the use of that hand, but we'll get you back on Earth and they'll be some expert who'll have a different opinion, who will be just too happy to tell me I'm a silly bugger. Lets hope so, eh?"

John nods numbly and closes his eyes.

"When does the Daedalus get here?"

The question comes easy. He'd rather forget about his injuries. Quickly putting to the back of his mind that he might not fly anymore. He guesses he knew that when he first saw his damaged hand on Atlantis. And yeah, he's survived. He has his life.

_'Promise me you'll live…' Rodney had said…_

And for now, he still feels in command. What of? A few tents on some forgotten planet in Pegasus, getting wet in the rain…

"The day after tomorrow. You needn't worry about that. You get some rest…"

And he's soon asleep again.

…and the aschatee circles and circles… trying to remember…

Go. Go. Aschatee. There is nothing here for you now. Go.

There is nowhere to go. Nowhere to go.

…a wide open empty sea…

Trying to remember… what was here before… was it so long ago that Atlantis stood here?

AR. I.

Radek had the twilight shift.

Actually he had the midnight shift and the dawn shift too. And Rodney could never understand why the Czech, usually very verbose in his Transylvanian sort of way, complaining of the injustices Rodney meted out to his underlings, accepted the triple duty rota with calm equanimity. He said it gave him time to think. In the quiet solitude of the night. That there was something almost spiritual to be in Atlantis when all and sundry slept… of course, he didn't expect Rodney to understand… and Rodney had scoffed and had said no, he didn't and much preferred his scientists to think more rationally. In straight lines. In concrete facts and figures. Grounded in reality and not in fanciful head in the clouds stuff. Not that he was against religion or anything like that… for Rodney _did _understand… a lot… Ideas, ideals, dreams, (not those crazy dreams with whales in them) but dreams that were aspirations, ideals that were driving forces, ideas that shaped all scientific theory found their origins in those times… He knew that. Radek knew he knew that. Radek knew that Rodney knew that but would never admit to it.

It was in the twilight shift when the second message had come through.

"I'm sorry," said Radek. Though for a moment Rodney couldn't understand what the message had said. It seemed incomprehensible. Like one of those fanciful ideas out of the clouds. Like Radek had made it up even. Though Rodney doubted he had the imagination. And what sort of sick joke would it be anyway? Just to get Rodney out of bed? And why was Radek apologising anyhow, because the message couldn't possibly be true. Rodney couldn't have woken up. He must still be dreaming.

Rodney looked at the deciphered message again.

_'We regret to inform you that, in the early hours of this morning, Richard Woolsey, Commander of Atlantis, passed away peaceably in his sleep. An autopsy has been called for but it is believed that the Commander suffered from sudden heart failure, cause or causes unknown, probably a congenital defect hitherto undetected._

_It is requested that Dr. Rodney McKay maintains his current position as Acting Commander of Atlantis, until such time that the Daedalus arrives and Colonel Caldwell can supervise the closure of the Pegasus Base.'_

"It can't be true! Woolsey? Dead?" He'd only been standing in that exact same spot thirty six hours previously… and Rodney hastily moved over six inches and caught Radek staring at the movement.

"It does seem a little incredible, does it not?" agreed Radek, rubbing a hand over his face and pushing his glasses further onto his nose.

"Quacks! They know nothing! We're all supposed to be checked over for this sort of thing… Aren't we?" And he instinctively reached for his heart, wondering if that too might stop… And Radek glanced at that too, concerned, also wondering if Rodney's heart might stop. Because he's in shock. Naturally they both are. Perhaps Radek even... could drop dead right before him? Another one to slip through the medical net…

"And… and where's Sheppard in all of this?"

"Yes… yes… indeed…"

"Why hasn't he even been mentioned?"

"I have no idea."

"You don't have to keep agreeing with me, you know!"

"I'm sorry."

"Nor apologising!"

"I'm sorry."

"But where's Sheppard?" he repeated.

And Radek was like a goldfish on him. He went to open his mouth, but really didn't know what was the best thing to say, so he said nothing and closed it again.

"He said they'd found something. Is he still finding something? Why didn't he send the message? Why didn't he send something to Teyla? What's he playing at?" Again Radek was at a loss for words… or even what question to answer…

And Sheppard… he should be here… he should be here as Acting Commander… why hasn't he returned? Obviously he hadn't been able to change the IOA's mind… He should be here and not leaving it all to Rodney… Rodney hadn't a clue as to the procedure to close down… what?... a Galactic base?... What do you call Atlantis?... He guessed there must be some protocols somewhere to follow?

When they'd first come to Pegasus, it'd all been down to Elizabeth. Rodney had simply seen to the scientists and ensured they had enough power on arrival. And she, an international expert in logistics, had taken eighteen months planning the expedition… And here was Rodney, faced with the prospect of doing the same, in reverse, in only thirteen days… Granted he hadn't got to seek out personnel and organise equipment… But how do you shut down an Atlantis?... Had he got to submerge it under the sea again?… Set up a self-destruct?... Hopefully Caldwell would have the answers… In thirteen days time, he could just breathe with a sigh of relief and hand it all over… Caldwell would like that… Caldwell was good at that…

In the meantime, Rodney guessed he was going to have to arrange some sort of memorial service for Woolsey… and he really wasn't very good at that sort of thing either… speeches and that… and Sheppard was good because he did it for the Marines all the time… rallying the troops… encouragement and morale… Rodney just couldn't do that… not that memorial services had become routine, habitual for Sheppard so that he could do it blindfold… but… he was just better at it… and this hurt… to use the superlative in this way with Sheppard… but… Sheppard really was better at this… sympathy… the right words… And Rodney knew he shouldn't be leaving this to Lorne either…

"You think we should send condolences back? To Mr Woolsey's family?" suggested Radek.

See… even Radek knew the right thing to do… Rodney never did… he was going to rely on Radek… Even Radek was going to have to guide him… because he really wasn't good at this Commander sort of thing.

"Yes, of course… oh… he has family?" Woolsey had never said. And suddenly, Rodney missed Woolsey too. Suddenly there was a gaping hole where Woolsey had been.

"I imagine that would be the case…"

"Can check his file?"

"It'd need your authorisation…" nodded Radek.

Of course… he'll go and do this… he was in charge… they'd be no problems… he could deal with this… everything was going to be ok…

"I suppose we can now ask why the Colonel is unable to return? It would appear they don't consider it worth while to activate the Gate for the Colonel for only thirteen days?"

"I guess we can… or even…" and Rodney snaps his fingers, "ask for him back!…Yes, yes, that's what I'll do. Demand he comes back! I need him here!"

"They couldn't possibly refuse..." added Radek. Trying to conceal a faint smirk, huh?

"Yes… I… um… need him here… it… um… wouldn't seem right… somehow… to close down Atlantis… and he's not here, would it?… Not after everything," and Rodney tapped a console by way of a full stop and briskly walked off to Woolsey's office.

Leaving Radek, looking up surprised at the remark... that had been a straight line direct from the heart.

AR. II.

_'Promise me you'll live,' said Rodney._

And life now seems like a confusion of waking and sleeping, peopled by a haze of bedside visitors, crowded with memories… mobbed by nightmares…

His life is not his own. He has to be fed, bathed… all demoralising… all humiliating… life not on his terms…

And although Lorne and Carson try to help, try to understand… and that is probably half the problem… that he doesn't want their help… doesn't want their understanding… not when they are dealing with their own grief… yet even with their help… he feels utterly on his own… life of a soldier… independent… solitary… and it took till now… to realise life had never been 'on his terms'… not entirely… it'd been dependent on three others… linked like a line of chain… and he's a link that clatters broken to the floor… purposeless without the others… but he doesn't show it… and that is the one constant in his life… the one thing that never changes… he never shows it…

He never gets to see Halling and Kaanan. He's hot. Feverish. His arm throbs. His head throbs. Bad dreams. When he sees Teyla, lost, wandering the corridors of Atlantis. When he sees Ronon, staring and blind. When he sees Rodney, calling for help. When he sees the towers of Atlantis crashing down into the sea. Crashing down on the remains of dying aschatee. Crashing down, crushing them all. And he's crushed again by debris. Suffocating. Dirt in his face. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. He's hot, hot, wet, soaked with perspiration and can't move, can't throw the weight off. Sees the Chair exploding into a million fragments… himself thrown into deep space… alone… alone… though the others are there… can't see them… can feel them… can't reach them… fingertips reaching… reaching… he's alone…

And once, he's aware of the plastic of an oxygen mask pressed against his face… And he's aware that its his turn to have the screens pulled around him…

"You had us worried there, Colonel," says Caldwell, one hip resting on a stool beside the bed.

"Yeah… me too." He's conscious of the hum of the Daedalus through hyperspace. Of the solidity of the metal ship after the tents on the Alpha Site. They were leaving Pegasus then…

Caldwell doesn't know what to say. He's absently tapping his thigh. He's not meeting Sheppard's eye but studying a point somewhere on the floor. He's not used to this, Sheppard guesses. Visiting the Infirmary. The bridge is the only place where Caldwell feels at ease. And Sheppard can't blame him...

"This is a bad job."

"Yeah."

And then Caldwell stands abruptly. "You'll be ok."

"Yeah. Thanks."

He stops. His back to Sheppard.

"I've recently lost two good friends in Iraq," he suddenly blurts out. "Yeah, I know what you could think… Caldwell, the sort of guy you'd have trouble believing actually _had _friends but until I got assigned to Stargate, we'd been through everything together… so I… I know what it feels like… I'm sorry… I know you people were close…" He takes courage now he's said so much, probably more than he'd ever intended, and turns back towards the bed. "Saying that, don't let this get you down, Sheppard. I've seen others… who've lost men, comrades and… it ruins them… Don't let that happen to you. It'd be the waste of another good life."

"You… think it might?" John feels surprised at himself but its nearly a dare… and as soon as he's said it… a fear… knowledge… it could happen… could happen… he's just got to be stronger than that… knows he can be stronger than that… he's _going_ to be stronger than that…

"No. Of course not… You'll be ok… Yeah." He nods. "Colonel." He knows Sheppard is possibly that strong… and leaves.

Lorne hobbles over on his crutch and sits on the stool just vacated by Caldwell. An orderly carries a tray with two bowls, bread, juice and fruit and sets them up in front of Sheppard.

"Soup ok?" asks Lorne.

"Got to be..."

"Too right…" And this is their routine now. That Lorne feeds Sheppard. Works a laptop for him. So they can sit and watch DVDs together. And Lorne has even proven not such a bad opponent at chess. Not as good as Rodney but then, he doesn't cheat either, even if he does move Sheppard's pieces. And there are times when Sheppard misses that, the cheating and the arguments after. And then he misses Rodney. And then he remembers Rodney... standing alone... facing the end. It's all the little things that remind him of what has passed…

'Not doing the personal stuff though!' Lorne had said grunting. That had been his limit. Which was fine because it was sorta Sheppard's limit too…

"Chicken broth just like mother used to make, they tell me!"says Lorne.

"You certain?" asks John pulling a face, after only one mouthful.

"Yeah well, I'm gullible, I guess," Lorne confesses with a crooked grin, after tasting his own first spoonful. Lorne takes it in turns, first feeding John and then himself. Every mealtime is like this. Suits them both. Lorne offers John a roll. And then something catches their eye. Two beds over. Jenny looking their way. Her eyes swollen and red. She quickly turns to attend to a patient. Lorne looks at John significantly… John looks down and bites a lip.

"She still won't have anything to do with you?" asks Lorne.

"No," says John hoarsely and he suddenly feels off soup.

"She can't blame you."

"It's not like that." And how can he say this… to Lorne who is a soldier? Carson says she just finds it too damn painful to… even look at… me? "I remind her too much of… Rodney…"

Lorne holds up another spoonful and John has to accept.

"That's rough… for the _both_ of you…" He eats his own soup. "Carson told me he wanted to get her sedated. She doesn't sleep. But she says she prefers to keep busy." Another spoonful comes John's way. And he'd rather not talk about this anymore. Jenny is another survivor... but another victim too… So is he, he guesses… So is he…

AR. I.

"It's video from General Lantry," says Chuck, seriously, when the third message comes through.

"You mean you're allowed to tell me, this time?" Chuck just pulls a face. He's only doing his job. But no, Rodney couldn't help that remark. And then he thinks… Why not Sheppard?... And why a video link?... Then, perhaps, Chuck was justified in looking so serious…

"Well, what does he want?" looking at Chuck's blank screen over his shoulder, puzzled.

"He asked me to relay it through to Mr. Woolsey's office. It's for your eyes only."

"Oh." And Rodney straightens and pulls back his shoulders. Commander to commander, huh? This is more like it… Wants to discuss policy and only Rodney will do… Sees in Rodney what is missing in Woolsey… was missing… Sheppard even… Rodney will get this closure thing all sorted… It needs a scientist's eyes… He'll put forward the scientist point of view… That Pegasus is too invaluable as a source and resource of new technology… It'd be beneficial to all mankind in the end, no matter what the financial cost to keep Atlantis open… "I'll, um, go there then…" and points to Woolsey's office. Chuck nods, still worried, because Rodney, despite all that, isn't exactly exuding confidence.

His sense of foreboding is corkscrewing in his stomach.

He hesitates at the doorway. A second. Because this is the office of the late Richard Woolsey, deceased. It feels… well, the dust hasn't even settled yet… so it feels wrong to be in here. It might be reverence on Rodney's part but it certainly feels… creepy. One of the last times he saw Woolsey was in here talking with Sheppard… He shakes it off… it's not as if there's coffins in here or anything…

He switches on the dormant screen and uneasily seats himself at Woolsey's Chair… Creepy… Rodney may have coveted the Commander's position a few times... oh, come on, Rodney… a few score times… _a few hundred times…_ But he never wanted it on these terms… Not to temporarily replace someone who had _died_… nor to be a stop gap in the final days until the base was closed… and yeah, it piqued a little it was only by default and not by merit… But it was all wrong… it should never have happened this way… He'd never imagined it would ever have panned out this way…

"Dr. McKay…" as the image of the General fuzzed onto the screen. And Rodney's not one for reading body language. He's never been one for those sort of subtleties so he guesses this is what comes naturally after thirty six hours of command… he can't help but notice that the General won't meet his eye and his lips are set tight... so... this is going to be bad, huh?

"General Lantry." He wants to think of something witty, acerbic, cutting to say. A retort. A McKay special. Something appropriate to Atlantis being shut down. But appropriate retorts escape him… utterly… totally… especially the humorous variety… simply by looking at that expression on Lantry's face…

Lantry sighs. "Dr. McKay… Rodney… I don't know quite how to break this to you… and I hate being the bearer of bad news… but I guess… well, I'll just have to tell it to you straight… it's concerning Colonel Sheppard… there's been an incident…"

-oAo-


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Alternative Reality II.

His life seems to drift on. A series of hospital beds and visitors who come and go. His life is a line of dashes, faintly italicized… because nothing… nothing can follow Atlantis…

When John leaves the Daedalus, Caldwell says his goodbyes. And Caldwell tells him he should count his blessings… or words to that effect… yeah…

A military ambulance takes him from Cheyenne Mountain to Petersen. Carson accompanies him and his other patients to ensure they settle in. And then Carson departs, taking a post in Africa. Aid work. Somehow, helping those most in need, like helping the planet communities in Pegasus, getting back to basics, answers his call to service to humanity more… Jenny, John doesn't see. She returns to Canada. Taking bereavement leave. Carson says though, he doubts she'll ever return to work for Stargate. And Radek surprises everyone by leaving the Stargate programme too. And Carson believes he's to take a University place somewhere, but doesn't know where.

John gets transferred to Palo Alto, the veteran's hospital in California. Soon realising that his injuries are nothing compared to other guys... but is that what he is now? A veteran?

Mealtimes and afternoons and evenings with Lorne come to an end.

Three weeks into his stay there, Lorne appears in full dress uniform. Wearing the badge of a Colonel. He's apologetic. He's known some time. He didn't want to say. Probably knowing that this might be hurtful to John whose future is still one big question mark. Lorne's going home to his folks for a month and then resuming duties at Stargate Command with his own Team.

General O'Neill visits and he says he's sorry… 'This is one helluva kick in the gut…' Everyone says they're sorry…

'I've got a place for you on my staff in Washington… you know that… you only have to say…' John refuses. He doesn't think he could stand an office job. It was the basis of all the arguments with Nancy and why their marriage broke up. Wouldn't seem right to go back on that now. And he hasn't changed. His life might have changed but he hasn't. He still wouldn't want to moulder behind a desk. 'Well, you know, when old age gets to you… its all there is…' says the General, 'and... you get time off to go fishing…'

Sam visits. And she reminisces. She was missing Atlantis already before this all happened. She was missing the girl talks with Teyla. She misses being in awe of Ronon. She misses the pain in the butt called Rodney… Did Sheppard know that Rodney had a crush on her once? And she smiles remembering… and sometimes he can do that too… sometimes there are happier memories… popcorn and movies… sparring with Teyla and Ronon… banter with Rodney… but sometimes… it's the happier memories that hurt the most…

'I can't believe it… I just can't believe that they're all gone… so many good men…' says Sam.

His brother visits… and says he's sorry too… he's been told it was an accident… and his brother says he could still sue because even the military have to take responsibilities for the welfare of staff… and John says 'cool it' and then David asks, with genuine concern, because he knows that John might get discharged out of the Air force, and David knows how much it means to John to carry on flying… 'what will you do?'

'I dunno… open up a surf shack out on the coast somewhere…' because he knows it will wind his brother up… and suddenly it doesn't seem like such a bad idea, anyway… 'A beach bum! You really want to make the old man turn over in his grave!'

Jeanie Miller visits. And its tearful. And this time its John that says he's sorry. He's missed Rodney's memorial service. And it hurts when he remembers the hologram Rodney, when John went forward in time, 48,000 years, talking of the fate of the Atlantis crew, talking of yet another grave containing an empty casket... it feels like Rodney was almost predicting his own end... John says, he'll get up to Canada when he's well. And Jeanie has been good enough to include the names of Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex on Rodney's headstone.

She's shaking her head. 'They told me so very little… even though I've been there and signed all their damn secrecy papers… Can't you say?… Can't you tell me what happened?… He... he didn't… suffer?'

'No… no… it happened so quickly… he covered our backs for us…' And that's all he says because he still doesn't want to talk about it.

'They're going to give him a posthumous award for bravery… Did you know that?...' He did know that. It'd been him who'd put Rodney's name forward. 'I mean Rodney…who'd thought?'

'Yeah, Rodney…' because he's too choked to say more.

There are new faces too… a replacement for Lorne, someone to operate his TV remote, someone with an interest in football, someone to argue over football, and who can even play a mean game of chess. Markie. Called that simply because he was a good shot. In a wheelchair. Double amputee. And how can John possibly feel sorry for himself now…

'How did you…? You know…' he asks Markie.

'Like you, I guess, a roadside bomb. In Tekrit. Took our carrier out. I was the only survivor. Lost everyone…' And John could nearly feel guilty about that… while they were in Atlantis, guys on Earth were fighting a real war, making sacrifices, while they got to explore worlds through the Gate… but then… Replicators, Wraith, this newest arrival… all very real enemies.

And Markie had assumed John had received his injuries the same way. In Iraq.

'Where were you stationed?' probes Markie.

John smiles weakly. 'I'm not allowed to say.'

'Oh, mystery guy, huh? Special ops?'

'Yeah.' Because it seemed easier to admit to that.

'I'd put my name down for that myself… knew a lot of those guys… never came across you… but then Iraq's a big place… but you get Air Force visitors?... that's unusual…'

And John just smiles again. He's not saying.

The neurosurgeon visits. A guy by the name of Dr. Brown. Don't mind the uninspiring name the medical staff say… he's the best there is. He's slow and methodical. Removes the bandages on John's hands. John hates looking. He shouldn't feel so bad about his deformed hand , not when you consider Markie, but it's his hand that's gonna stop him from flying. He stares at the wall. Allows the doctor to prod and poke and manipulate his fingers… but he feels nothing… down one side of his hand and forearm and very little down the other, and can only marginally move his thumb and two nearest fingers…

'Right, I will take my findings away with me, Colonel, and look at the X rays again... but I have to be honest… despite the excellent work of Dr Beckett and others, the prognosis is not good… not from the point of view of remaining as an active member of the Air Force. ' It's his way of saying... flying... 'I'm booking you in for surgery tomorrow… I intend to re-route nerves to enable a greater sensitivity and motor control of the forefinger and thumb… to have the pincer movement will make that left hand more usable for you… but that is as much as we can aim to do… We'll get you behind the wheel of a car again, but the controls of a plane?…' and he shakes his head, 'that is out of the question… I'm sorry… '

Once his cast comes off, once his hip has healed and he can bear to put weight on it again, once his burns are almost scars, Markie and he do physio together. Markie gets fitted with his prostheses and its hard getting used to them. John finds the work outs welcome. It takes his mind off things and tires him out so he sleeps sound and doesn't dream. Sometimes...

He's shocked to discover how thin he's become and yeah, he sees the need to get some muscle tone back on. Gives him a goal. And yeah, his shrink, another new face, says that goals are important at the moment. But seeing a shrink isn't gonna get him anywhere…

It doesn't stop the dreams… the waking up in a cold sweat… the nightmares of falling towers that crash into the sea… of friends that call his name in the night… or John wandering through the destruction of Atlantis calling theirs… or waking _shouting _theirs… the names of Teyla, Ronon and Rodney echoing back in the darkness…

It doesn't stop the dreams of the circling crying aschatee that has nowhere to go…

AR. I.

Rodney goes to the door. Teyla's door. His hand poised over the button.

Then…

No. No. He can't do this. He just can't do this.

He paces a circle round the corridor. A hand over his mouth. That he lowers instantly as a marine passes by giving him odd looks. Smiles weakly and turns back to the wall. He doesn't want anyone to see his face… Big boys don't cry… Commanders don't cry… And punches one fist into the other over and over.

He has to do this. Has to. He's Commander, isn't he? It's what commanders do, isn't it? The rough with the smooth. All part of the job… except suddenly it's all rough. It's his duty as Commander… it's his duty as friend… but his heart is tight in his chest… and all he wants to do is find some quiet corner and come to terms with this himself…

He faces that button, leans on the wall with his forehead, suddenly faint, and then, steeling himself, he raises his hand finally.

He hears Teyla say enter and his stomach lurches. He's sure he's going to be sick.

The door slides open and Teyla is working at the small kitchenette preparing baby food. She looks up, smiling, pleased to see him.

"Rodney!" He looks away. He doesn't trust himself. He knows he's going to chicken out. "Rodney? Are you... ill? You seem very pale." At least, she hasn't noticed that his eyes are moist.

"Me? Stomach playing me up a little. It's... er... nothing..." He coughs, surprising himself that he has found his voice, and thumps his midriff. And it's not far wrong. His stomach's churning.

"Nothing?" And now she's concerned, because Rodney never says 'it's nothing' and mentions an illness. Not in the same sentence. "You should let me prepare you some tea for that…"

Tagan, on a play mat makes a chortling noise and suddenly throws a toy plane, squealing. It makes Rodney jump but all the child wants is for Uncle Rodney to go fetch.

"Tagan! Do not be so loud!" admonishes his mother, but Tagan is pointing madly.

It's their little game. And Rodney always obliges. Even if he feels like the family pet dog. Even if the boy is too much like his father and it's just one big tease to see how far he can push Rodney. Rodney's too happy to do this and not complain. This is family.

But Rodney can't do it. Not this time.

"Tagan go get it himself," says Ronon from the couch. And he too is sensing that something is wrong.

And the child is off on all fours, scrambling across the floor to retrieve his own toy.

"Look at JJ, Rodney…" says Teyla fondly, "I am about to feed him and _then_ he decides to take a nap."

Ronon had been holding him, and now the Satedan is sprawled out with the baby sleeping peacefully on his broad chest.

How can Rodney do this? How can Rodney break up this happy domestic scene? How can Rodney destroy all this? But it's been done already… and not by him…

"He looks so much like his father when he is asleep… There is still no news?" And she glances up from her preparations.

Rodney looks at her now.

And in that split second, she understands the look...

"John?... No… No... Not John…"

She sits abruptly on a counter stool. Places the cloth and the spoon she was holding carefully on the counter top. Staring back at him. Her face already crippled by sorrow.

"I'm sorry…" he falters, and that's as far as words will take him… He's practiced speeches, but none of that will come out. And he's not sure… should he go and comfort Teyla?... And he allows his hands to flap uselessly at his sides.

And Ronon. Gingerly stands, so as not to disturb JJ and gently lays the baby in his crib. He turns, standing to his full height, serious.

"Tell us," he says and glances at Teyla , and then goes over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't respond to the gesture. She's still in a state of shock.

"General Lantry…" Rodney watches Tagan. The child is concentrating, pushing cars around the mat, contented and oblivious to the drama unfolding around him. Rodney's not sure again. Should he be saying this in front of the boy. What if subconsciously he understands? Will it scar him for life? All these thoughts come rushing in, uninvited, but he has to push them away… he has to explain… "He says it was an accident." Rodney goes to sit on the couch, suddenly not trusting his legs, because he can see it all now in his head… imagine how it all happened… and he's turning his hands over and over again… like some operatic singer, wringing out the grief… he knows it must look melodramatic… so he tries to stop…

"They were looking into something? He and Woolsey? Turns out that 'something' was highly confidential… Woolsey must have used some old security code of his to input… Lantry doesn't know the details… IOA took over the investigation… the two were arrested…"

He hears Teyla gasp.

And Ronon frowns. "This can't be… John... Woolsey… The IOA must know they would never do anything dishonest."

"Whatever they were doing, for whatever reason, _was _illegal. They were playing with fire… They were put into separate cells to await questioning. I imagine it could have all been sorted out. But Woolsey suffered his heart attack then. And John…"

"No…" murmurs Teyla.

"Apparently when the guards went into his cell in the morning… I'm sorry…" He's choking on his words suddenly. He had been strong to that point but can't be now.

"Tell us, tell us what happened," urges Ronon tightly. And it's probably as well there's a whole galaxy between Pegasus and Earth, because Rodney knows that voice and it means revenge and anger and threat.

And if this is agony for Rodney… then what must it be like for Teyla? Who's quiet… too quiet.

And Tagan carries on chattering to his cars, blissfully unaware… it shouldn't be like this… shouldn't be like this… they all deserved better…

He wipes his eyes and takes a deep breathe.

"When the guards went in, he attempted… he attempted escaping." It was lunacy, where would Sheppard have gone? It'd been lunacy to go through secret files but this had been more so. Even Lantry had expressed disbelief but he had seen the video from the surveillance camera. It'd confirmed it all… "There was a struggle… the guards tried to stop him… a gun went off… I'm sorry… Teyla… I'm sorry..."

"No. No. No." And Teyla turns and buries her face into Ronon's shirt and Ronon hugs her… his face… trying to control his own grief… as Teyla sobs. "No… not John… not John…"

And Rodney feels he wants to go and hug her too. And Tagan has fallen quiet and is looking at his mother curiously. So Rodney gets down on all fours and tries to distract him and to get him to play again. And Tagan feels happy about that… and Rodney wants to hug the boy too… because he will never know his father… And Rodney's eyes flood with tears now…

And Teyla pulls herself away from Ronon suddenly and stands. Though confused, not knowing what to do next. Wiping her eyes. "I mustn't… not in front of Tagan." Rodney would expect that. Would expect her to be brave about all of this no matter how much she is hurting inside.

And Rodney stands also, feeling useless… but he can't alter what has happened… he wishes he could but he can't… He goes over to the other two and hesitates, and then awkwardly offers to put his arms around them. And Ronon invites him into the embrace and the three stand there, silently consoling one another…

-oAo-


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Alternative Reality II. 

"We've been wasting our time here, haven't we?"

He shrugs. He seems relaxed. Lounging back in the easy chair. The ankle of one leg resting over the knee of the other. Occasionally sipping from the coffee cup held in his one good hand. His useless hand tapping the arm of the chair from time to time. That he watches. His voice calm and level… She's certain it's all an act. For her benefit or… he's conning himself… Even the hand tapping is subterfuge… a way of saying he's not as hurt as he really is… and if he's doing that physically… then he's capable of doing it mentally too.

And always that damned shrug… dismissive… whatever happened, just happened… it was inevitable… She supposes he's been giving his men talks along those lines for the past five years… so he would naturally apply the same principle to himself… get over it… move on… stuff happens…

'You've lost people close before?... Your mother... and recently your father?' It was just a handle. To get in there... get in that head of his...

'Oh, I'm an orphan.... ' His sarcasm showed he'd seen through her. 'Look doc, I have no problems with this...' and he says it... 'you move on, ok?'

'Just put it all behind you?' Was it really that easy?

'Yeah. I'll just put it all behind me.' _Life's a line. A goes to B. B to C. It's that easy. And there's no turning back..._

And Dr. Brandon has seen Colonel John Sheppard's past psychiatric reports… this guy would never open up… not in a million years. And it's always the same with these military types. After all, that's why they got hired in the first place… because they were tough...

Whenever they talk, he's factual. Never saying more than what's contained in the military write ups. In the Expedition's line of work, any one of them could have been killed at any one time. He'll admit his team were close friends but won't admit any more than that… it was inevitable that they should be so… thrown together like that. And he was always so deprecatory… other guys had had it rough too. Rougher even.

'Actually no,' she'd said. He'd lost friends. Witnessed at first hand the deaths of colleagues. Lost forty one people under his command. And was probably about to lose his job due to injury... and not just any job either... a way of life... And he'd lost his home of five years… How bad has it got to be before you actually wanna call it bad?

At first, she'd tried blackmail.

'If you don't... _won't_ tell me _how you are feeling_, how can I help? And how can I recommend further military service?' That usually did the trick… cruel to be kind… but he was convinced his hand would never heal anyhow… not enough to keep flying... and in the end, that proved right…

Being warned, she's on the look out for the body language. Like the hand tapping. He's good though. He's giving little away. Though there is a flicker there in the eyes sometimes that he can't hide. A biting at a lip that he quickly stops. A tremor in the voice that he coughs over when she makes him talk about lost friends… He's hurting still.

"You know, this service is offered free… little is nowadays... you should take full advantage of it." She doubts if he's bothered by financial considerations. But she has to try at one last attempt at persuasion. He's entitled to compensation benefit because of his injury. Though there's a backlog on disability claims these days. And he'll receive a Colonel's pension. "How's that discharge coming along anyhow?"

"Papers come in a couple days."

"Well, I wish you luck with that, of course…" And she hadn't even begun to touch on the problems of adapting to civilian life. Without proper support… without friends… She refers to her notes. He's refused everything. So she hands him leaflets with phone numbers and hopes he'll read them. She can do little more. "I also wish you'd just let me help you."

_No. You can't. No one can…_

"Guess I thank you for trying?" He stands, offering his hand, smiling wryly. It's military polite though. His way of saying this last meeting was over.

She flicks through her notes yet again.

"No forwarding address? But it says you might settle further north? On the coast? You like the sun?" she jokes.

_No. The sea. Sky. Space… _

"I'd thought I'd tour a bit... before I decide on anything." He's going to disappear... off the map...

"I have a colleague who works with the Navy… here… here's his contact number," and she hands him a card. "He has official clearance… so you can discuss anything you want with him… if you… if you find you have problems…" If he won't talk to her, perhaps he'll talk to him...

"You worried about me, Doc? There's really no need."

Yeah, she was… and she hated it when her training cut out and her intuition cut in. She hoped it wasn't because… well, he _was_ attractive, you couldn't deny that… but she didn't want him to go the way of so many others… She'd seen the scenario so many times before. There just weren't enough meetings with these guys… out of the services… trauma… the sense of abandonment… depression setting in… a background of putting on a brave face… even asking for anti-depressants would be seen as losing face… and then the slippery slope down to alcohol dependency… or worse... alone and broke… in and out of mental institutions… Help had improved a lot over the past years... but there were always those who slipped through the net...

She says her good byes… Perhaps he _was_ stronger than that… perhaps he _would_ just get over it… find new friends… find his own way. Sometimes she questions her own profession… and thinks, like Colonel Sheppard, that these meetings don't help one iota either… simply like scratching at the scab of an old wound… best left alone to heal itself…

AR. I.

Teyla has a wild look about her. Distraught. If this hadn't been Teyla, Rodney normally would have given such a look a wide berth. Run away even. Not that he'd encountered that many mad, wild women... Thankfully, his line of work had kept him pretty much protected from that sort of exposure... or he'd made sure it had... no... his experience so far was pretty much limited to nothing more than the mad woman in Jane Eyre, the film he'd been forced to watch once, since it was considered educational and therefore permitted, on a visit to an elderly aunt's. He had been twenty two at the time...

So seeing _Teyla_, affected this way is... unsettling, to say the least.

And Ronon... Ronon is tense, seething with anger. "They're treating him like he had been a criminal!" He is leaning across Woolsey's desk, breathing into Rodney's face, muscles taut and tight.

And really, as Commander, Rodney should say that, yes, John, broke the rules, that's how it should be…

But this is John they were talking about… honour, integrity in all that he did… and this is Ronon, who understood people solely in those terms…

"It's out of my hands… there is really nothing I can do…"

Ronon relaxes a little and stands upright, folding his arms. "If you won't go, if you won't try and persuade them, then let me."

The look on his face, a challenge… he's saying… can't or won't?... He's saying that Rodney _daren't_? He's saying that Rodney isn't being the Commander he ought to be?... And doubt creeps in… Rodney feels he should do more… should do more to save and protect and salvage the good name of Sheppard… But what?... They still have no idea what exactly Sheppard and Woolsey had 'found.' Perhaps when he returns to Earth, Rodney could do something... but they'd be waiting for him… Sheppard had been looking into files… They'd be waiting for Rodney to hack into those files… to find answers… but perhaps Rodney shouldn't be put off by that… Sheppard hadn't… Sheppard hadn't concerned himself with the consequences… had taken that risk… had done his utmost to save the future of Atlantis… and how bad were things going to get before Dr Rodney McKay was prepared to break the rules?… Was he deep down protecting his own neck? His own reputation? His sense of self preservation screaming in… He didn't like to think that was the case… He involuntarily shook his head…

"I'm sorry… we've been told… no further contact… you'll… you'll just get thrown in a cell too…"

And then Ronon says, "It's that how you're going to play this Commander thing, McKay? Safe?" If they'd been contempt in Ronon's voice, Rodney wouldn't have been surprised. But there isn't. Truthful. Earnest. Straight...

But it simply made sense _not_ to go up against the powers that be… and… and… Sheppard was dead now… nothing was going to alter that…

And then Ronon changes instantly, snorts in disgust, in frustration, and turns, and leans with one arm on the glass panel behind him, breathing hard, misting the screen. He surely knows that Rodney is right… it would achieve little…

And then there is anguish in Ronon's voice as he hisses out yet more questions. "What sort of animals are they that won't let a widow attend to the body of her husband, or pay final tribute to the father of her children?"

And then.

Rodney starts. Suddenly. Furiously. Ronon uses a fist to punch the glass. And storms out the room…

"Ronon, don't…" and Rodney is on his feet. "You think I should follow?" But Ronon is already out of sight. "Teyla?" Teyla simply sits and stares at the desk, tears welling in her eyes. "Teyla?" and Rodney is on one knee, at her side, taking her hand… surprising himself… surprised at how spontaneous this action was.

"Teyla… don't… you want me to call Jenny?"

She turns to face him. "What is going on, Rodney? It's like… it's like our whole world is falling down around us… I do not understand any of this. Do they not remember John's past? Does it not count for nothing? Do they hate us all so very, very much? Have I not suffered enough and they throw this in my face? That they do not recognise our union? That I and the children have no claims to… John's… remains… Is there no one there who will speak on our behalf? General Lantry? General O'Neill? Colonel Carter? These are all people who have demonstrated kindness before… Won't they do so now?"

"I've asked Teyla. I've tried. It was useless. I don't think I'm getting through… I just keep getting that same old message back again. John… John is to be buried by his brother, David." Only David is being recognised as his next of kin. Somehow... there was no piece of paper legalising John and Teyla's marriage. And Command had pulled up some old protocol from way back, when the expedition first arrived… no liaising with the natives, so to speak… so John's memory was painted blacker than ever… a part of a smear campaign if ever there was one… and it's worse… worse than worse… and Rodney can't believe that those guys can give the order that Teyla cannot attend the funeral for security reasons… that they're all being regarded with suspicion... and worse… worse than that even… that Teyla and Ronon are not to be permitted to return on the Daedalus with the rest of the expedition. Another convenient old protocol that's had the dust and cobwebs brushed off - no aliens allowed residency on Earth.

He's supposed to be in authority… in command… but he's not… is he? And he's a scientist. It's his job to find solutions to problems. Where's his solution this time? There is nothing here a scientist can fix... Even as a friend he feels powerless… What would John do? If it were… and Rodney shivers… if it were Rodney who'd died and this was Jenny crying in Woolsey's office? He would fight this… somehow… but Rodney doesn't know where to begin…

"Perhaps Colonel Caldwell… when he arrives… will listen to reason…" says Teyla. And he wants to tell her that Caldwell's hands will be tied too.

"Yeah… Lets hope so, huh?" In the meantime, he'll have to arrange another memorial service…

"There was… what is it called?... A Will?… John left a will… on his files…" remembers Teyla.

"I know… I've seen it…" The first thing he did after General Lantry's call was to pull it out, though it had taken a full two hours to find the courage to read it.

"To be cremated on the Mainland and to have his ashes scattered over Atlantis… to have the Athosians perform the necessary rituals… the way of his sons' people… How can they do this to him? To ignore his wishes? Why do they need to punish him even in death?"

And tears are flooding again as she rests her head on his shoulder. And he finds himself gently patting her back.

"I don't know, Teyla… I don't know…"

And that line of life suddenly feels like a thick black wall stretching far into the distance on either side, an obstacle, stopping any way forward…

AR. II.

John was sitting on the edge of his bed, swinging his legs, flexing, unflexing his left hand. His 'exercises'.

Waiting. The guy was late. And that irked. Not that John had ever been one for punctuality anyway. But it sorta felt like… more of that same stuff… that John didn't matter anymore… scrap heap of life and all that… Once… he was sure that once he'd saved a whole damn planet. He hadn't dreamt that one up, had he? Though John was the last person to crow about his achievements. Neither did he ever expect any thanks. It was… _had been_ his job. That he just does… _had done_ to the best of his ability… but… this guy being late... it all underlined… how quickly… he'd been forgotten… here... in this small white room…

The guy wore a navy suit. Carried an expensive looking briefcase. And breezed in without knocking. Without apologising. Without offering a hand. Without giving his name. Though John had been told to expect an IOA agent called Garry Lennox.

It really felt like John didn't matter anymore...

"This shouldn't take long. I've got several other appointments and I'm already late," the guy said, looking at his heavy watch.

The man then slung his case on the bed beside John, efficiently clicked on the security clasp and opened it, pulling out a file and then pulling papers out of that file.

"Don't worry," said John, not even attempting to keep the bitterness out of his voice, "I'm not about to hold you up."

Lennox looked up sharply at the remark and then promptly ignored it. No doubt, he was used to worse things being said. And John was already getting his head round some of those 'worse things' as the man's eyes skimmed over a single sheet of paper, flipping it over to read the back, appearing to refresh himself with John's details. Unfamiliar with John's background. John, a stranger...

"Apparently, you have declined a position in Washington? On the staff of General O'Neill? Says here, I have to try and persuade you to change your mind… so… think that's wise? Don't wish to reconsider that? I mean those sort of posts don't come everyday… "

"I want to fly."

"Medical report says you have three badly injured fingers?" Looking at his notes again. "So… its impossible?"

"I could still fly…" If someone would give him the goddamned chance, he knows he could still fly…

"There appears to be second reason for consideration… a psychiatric report… a degree of post trauma stress?…"

"I hardly said anything…" he began, trailing off, realising that Dr. Brandon had only been doing her job... but it still felt like a stab in the back from the analyst.

"Hm… well… Says here... not to be recommended for further active military service… and yet they still wanted you in Washington? Someone there thinks highly of you… If you want my opinion-"

"-And I don't."

"Ok. Ok. As long as we're clear on that point. I tried to persuade you. And you turned it down. " And he moves to lean on John's little table to tick boxes, to say he's completed the task, that he's dotted 'i's' and crossed 't's'... "Lets get through the rest of the business, shall we?" And he pulls yet another file from the briefcase, peering closely at the enclosed papers, as if checking them with that sharp pointed nose of his. "Your discharge papers…"

This was it then… the end of his career… he bit his lip and looked away to the window, feeling his stomach tighten, feeling the warmth of dread wash over him… He thought he'd been prepared for this. But now the moment was here... he wasn't... never could be...

"Once the correct department is in receipt of these, you will be eligible to receive your military pension."

He handed them over and John quickly scanned through. A brief glance. And surprise, surprise. Everything's in triplicate. Everything's in legalese.

"Got a pen?"

"You _will _need to read them first," said Lennox, reprovingly, clicking at a biro and passing it over to John.

John pulled a face. "Well, I _thought_ you said you wanted to get away…" and lifted the papers to show that there was rather more there than five minutes reading. "Just run through everything… lets say I trust you…"

"It's all military. It's not my department. And it's mainly to do with your application for benefit. You'll get your own copy. Get someone to go through it with you if you're not certain. Though it's all self explanatory. Just sign where it's marked with crosses."

John duly did so... after reading nice and slow till the end... forcing Lennox to wait, watching him out of the corner of his eye, pacing up and down the room, or going over to window, fidgeting with and straightening an already straight tie, running fingers through his hair, or impatiently rocking on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, or... wait some more at the foot of the bed, shoulders back… chin up… feet apart… parade at ease…

Ex military then?… low rank… not so long ago probably… and it hadn't gone unnoticed that the guy had not followed that common courtesy of calling John by his rank of 'Colonel'. And even if John's Air Force days were officially over, in what… the next couple of minutes… and even if John didn't care that much about military decorum… and even though John knew he shouldn't be taking any of this personally as Lennox was only doing his job... this all felt, well, personal... The guy had a chip on his shoulder. And John felt pissed off even more.

He handed everything back. "And this is to say, everything has been witnessed by myself." And Agent Lennox countersigned all his signatures, handing John his own copies.

"Okaaay, next… non disclosure papers…" and he extracted the next wad of papers from his briefcase. "These you are already familiar with and simply reinforce those that you agreed to five years ago. Basically, this states that you will continue to abide by them, until your demise or until such time that those who have the authorisation to do so, have deemed it permissible to release all records to the public domain… that anything connected with Stargate Command, Pegasus, Atlantis, Cheyenne Mountain will never be revealed by yourself, verbally or otherwise. Neither is it to be kept in any retrievable storage system… book form… diaries… computer files… Not even for personal use… The penalty is quite clear and there will be no appeal or leeway, however high a regard your military career is held at this present moment in time…" and there it was again... that chip... "you will be arrested and imprisoned indefinitely, without charge or trial…"

"Right…" And John nods and there's yet another form to sign. With no copies. That goes straight back to Lennox.

A large envelope was passed over next.

"The following contains your new identity. Henceforth, you will now be known as John Patrick Finley. Inside here is a new passport, a new birth certificate, driver's licence, ID, social security no. bank account-"

"-Identity?" And this is like a bolt out of the blue...

"You have a problem with this? You weren't expecting it?"

No. No. He hadn't been… Should have been… but wasn't…

"By signing the non-disclosure, you must already realise that what you've been dealing with for the past five years is of very sensitive nature. This really cannot be leaked to the public at large. A new identity helps protect that... And its for your own safety too." Yeah, and he was trying to tell John that they had only his interests and welfare at heart. "There are those out there who'd love to get their hands on the info that you carry around with you. Like we said, we would have preferred it if you'd taken a permanent position working within the military or security…"

"You mean, so you'd be able to keep tabs on me?" Agent Lennox didn't reply.

"There's a brother? But you're not close, I understand?"

"No." And they knew that?

"Well, that's a good thing… good..."

"Good?" And John screwed up his face. Good? This guy was for real? Since when did a family break up ever come into the category of… good?

"So you won't be seeing that much of him? Only, I've been asked to forward on a request that all contacts with former family and colleagues are to be kept to the absolute bare minimum."

"Well, it's lucky that they're all _dead _then, isn't it?" said John icily. Yeah, he was exaggerating but he really wouldn't want Lennox or his department to worry on his account.

"It's easier to maintain your new identity… and I repeat, it _is_ for your and _their_ personal safety…" Yeah, and the agent was still going to find it tough to sell that one to John too.

Lennox then took a cell phone out of the brief case, and what appeared to be a small white envelope from his top jacket pocket.

"This is yours… it has sat link up so you should have no probs with a signal. Here are two numbers for you to call in the event of any… actuality. You will notice that they are not the normal codes." Just four digits apiece. Obviously an identifying security code, not a dial up number. That must be built into the phone somehow. And this was just getting to be a little scary… They'd never been given anything like this sort of tech for the times they'd visited Earth… And then John felt a pang… deepdown... all these explanations… somehow… somehow… reminded him of how Rodney would patter off details of like this, in that same almost bored tone of voice… only Rodney would be bored knowing that hardly anyone could keep up... Lennox was just bored... "They will give you a direct link to my office 24/7… memorise them now…"

And John glanced at the numbers and handed them back to be re-pocketed by the agent, tempted to joke whether they'd now self destruct. But too dazed really.

"Any questions?" Agent Lennox, however, was already snapping up his briefcase. Meeting over as far as he was concerned.

John just shook his head... yeah, he was dazed all right… so much he'd had to come to terms with in the past weeks… and now this?...

"You want an address? When I'm settled?"

"Yeah. Ok."

Though hell, John wouldn't have wanted to force it on the guy. Lennox didn't want to know… that meant… they were probably going to be watching John anyhow… had wanted him in Washington… all safe and secure… only so they could keep an eye on him… how else were they ever going to find out if he'd let out the secrets of Atlantis unless they weren't going to spy on him?... and they could keep tabs on him at any given time… he still had his transmitter… no one had suggested it should now be removed... and he guessed that even the phone might be bugged… this guy was as good as telling him that from this time on, his life was never going to be his own… he hadn't even been allowed to choose his own damn name…

"Got any ideas where you're heading?..." It was the most conversational the guy had been. But it was forced. He just wasn't interested.

"Nothing sorted yet… thought I'd try some touring, some sight seeing before deciding... " He didn't want to say… this was all personal stuff… this was the rest of his life… but little by little… it felt like… it just wasn't his… not anymore…

"Sounds good…" nodded Lennox, without any feeling, slinging his case off the bed, making for the door, again not offering his hand.

Leaving... John... alone...

And slowly he removed his dog tags from around his neck and tossed them on the bed... The end of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.

-oAo-


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Alternate Reality I.

He'd split off from the main group. Jenny had seen him leave but let him go… and this was odd for Dr. Rodney McKay, but… he wanted to be alone… no… not exactly true… but here he was… Sheppard's Athosian memorial service… And Rodney, for a split second, wanted to go and tell Sheppard all about it… wanted to share those beers… have that quiet chat with his buddy… recount the events of the day… talk about life… except he couldn't… and had to remind himself that he couldn't...

So he was alone… on the beach… occasionally stooping to pick up a pebble… to skim it across the surface of the sea… but not very successfully… actually he was useless at it… Sheppard would have made it bounce, richochet at least ten times… a standing record at sixteen… and he could nearly hear Sheppard's drawl…'it's all to do with wrist action, Rodney… and… relaxing…' as Sheppard would demonstrate yet again. And Rodney guessed he really wasn't very good at wrist actions… or even relaxing… Sheppard was the better man… not just at pebble skimming… everything… for all Rodney's bragging otherwise... Rodney knew that… and wished… and wished he'd said…

Rodney allowed the last pebble to plop ineffectually into the gentle surf and shoved his hands down deep into his pockets, hunched his shoulders against the chill evening breeze and followed the shoreline. The sun was setting low now and the sky blazed red.

'_Red skies in the evening are really quite beautiful…'_

_'Yeah.'_

All this… all this Sheppard being dead though, did not seem... real… it's like... he'd see him soon… walking towards him on the beach… two beers in his hand… greeting Rodney… handing one over… and that expectation was what seemed real...

'Red skies in the evening are really quite beautiful…'

'Yeah…' replies Sheppard, taking a swig from his beer…

And Rodney allows the ghost to walk beside him. Much like the time when Beckett died…

He was being overly sentimental…

'But, you know… that's what memorial services are, aren't they, sentimental?... Shria, Teyla's cousin sung Athosian anthems…' Of life's victory over death… of good deeds left behind… 'Halling recited poetry…' Of bravery and heroism in the face of life… life… not death… because it is life that presents the greatest hurdles… 'And me… the eulogy…'

'The what?'

'Eulogy… memories… friendship… that sort of thing… and lost fatherhood…'

'Yeah, that... that can sorta of get to you…' says the ghost of Sheppard huskily, turning away.

'They lit this fire… symbolic of a funeral pyre…'

'Jeez, Rodney, not sure if I want to know that…'

'Did you know that the Athosians apparently had their own rituals to commemorate the dead who'd fallen victim to the Wraith and had left nothing physical to mourn?… I didn't. Till now... A parcel is made, all wrapped up nice, in precious silk-like material and bound in ribbon and decorated with leaves and flowers and stuff… and inside the parcel is some memento of... the passed one's life… some object that embodies something of their life… their spirit…'

'Yeah… Teyla… had mentioned it…' says the ghost absently, squinting at the distant horizon, at the ruby red sun sparkling off a crimson sea, that disappears and dips suddenly.

And Rodney falls silent because the ghost obviously doesn't want to talk of Teyla…

Teyla had been too distressed to chose. She supposed that the model aeroplane that John had been making as a present for Tagan might be suitable, but she couldn't bear to be parted from the last thing that John had touched… Lorne had suggested his dress uniform… and Teyla had readily agreed… and Rodney couldn't believe how bitter she had become… gentle, forgiving Teyla… now cursing the Air Force that had turned its back on John and his family… She would be glad to see the back of the uniform, but recognized, all the same, that the uniform had come to represent everything that John had stood for…

'They put in your uniform… and Teyla… her own locket that you found on the floor of the cave on Athosia…' Her gift to Sheppard in the afterlife… _and beginning meets end…_

And Rodney looks up then, aware of the creeping darkness, of the trees that are already only black silhouettes, realising that he has been away from the others too long... time to go...

"Why did you do it?" He asks out loud of the empty grey sea.

'Do what?' Replies an echo in his head... for the ghost has deserted him…

Try to escape? Always a death wish, Sheppard… leaving us all alone… and… you didn't deserve that… didn't deserve to die branded a common criminal… Teyla didn't deserve to be a widow… certainly not to mourne John this way… He was blaming Sheppard for bringing about his own demise?

'Didn't imagine it'd ever be like this…' says Sheppard again...

'How then?'

'Oh, you know…'

'Heroic daring do?'

'Yeah… and not a Galaxy apart.'

'You mean like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid… the Alamo… all together, riding into the sunset?'

'But… old age would have been good too…'

All those shared close encounters with death… all those times when together they had faced death only a hair breadth away… side by side… always expected… always expected somehow… though at the same time praying, of course, that it wouldn't happen… and had always managed to prevent it somehow… always expected that if it _did_ happen… it would always be… well, _never separated_… this was like…

...leaving someone behind…

And Rodney remembers the time they found alternate versions of themselves on the Daedalus… all dead… but then he instantly pushes that memory away… but… perhaps… somewhere… some time even… some alternate Sheppard still lived… so that was some consolation… though, of course, there was the obvious correlation, that somewhere, other Sheppards had also died… that was true… or Rodney had died… no, no… forget that one… no… somewhere Sheppard still lived…

So what was he doing?... And Rodney smiles then… Saving the Universe, no doubt…

AR. II.

Empty.

Hollow.

He takes a mouthful. Or two. Mostly. Not always. But mostly he stops there. He's always mindful where this could lead. And he's stronger that than. But sometimes… it takes the edge off things… and it helps him sleep… drives away the ghosts… Rodney standing alone in the control tower… Ronon's staring eyes… Teyla… and this is how he imagines her end… stumbling, falling, as walls collapse around her, with no hope, with the siren wailing out the last remaining seconds of her life…

A toast sometimes.

Always a memory.

He and Rodney. Sometimes Ronon too shared a beer looking at red sunsets over the sea like this.

'I've never noticed before… I guess you have to have a close encounter with death to notice these things… but sunsets are really quite beautiful…'

'Yeah,' he agrees, because, hey, what's taken Rodney so long to come out with that one? And didn't they always have close encounters and escape by the skin of their teeth? What had changed?

And this wasn't the usual, rational Rodney talking.

Usually, he'd say something like… Life is a straight line. B follows A. C follows B.

But life definitely comes in waves. You often get a whole load of shit just dumped on you on the low points of those waves.

How low is marked by the line of Scotch left in the bottle…

And life sure feels like its been in free fall, spiralling out of control… though perhaps lately, it does seem to have levelled out… reached a plateau… but... morning is still followed by afternoon… afternoon by evening… evening by long interminable nights when he lies awake, staring at the darkness, listening to the silence… trying not to think… waiting for the morning… routine… empty… hollow… lonely… the new life of John Finley…

Sometimes you just want to cross life out.

Two straight lines. That dissect.

And start again.

But you can't…

And even the nightmares possess the same sameness… he starts, sweating, calling, as yet another Lantean tower falls to the sea... or he is trapped alive under tons of rubble... or he is scratching at stones with his bare hands, looking for buried friends… or he is watching helpless as they disappear into a blinding white light of oblivion… or he dreams of the aschatee skimming over blood red waves, screaming for a city that no longer exists…

He watches the seabirds with their black pencil wings, swoop and dart against the red… or flitting to and fro at the darkening shoreline.

Evening. His routine. One last swallow of the biting liquor.

"A toast to absent friends."

And then… throws the bottle hard and far, watching it arc through the sky, spilling and spinning the last of it's contents… hearing it's heavy flop into the water…

And in the morning, a jog to clear his head. And he retrieves the empties that the tide has thrown up…

AR. I.

One last day before Caldwell arrives with the Daedalus.

And it's like when the Expedition first made ready out of Cheyenne Mountain, but in reverse, with all the boxes and equipment either stacked up at the North Pier's entrance ready to load onto the Daedalus, or in the Gateroom. It'd been decided that the Gate, in order to save the ZPMs for Earth, can only be activated for an hour, to take any excess the Daedalus can't handle. That wasn't Rodney's decision, though he's ready to go along with that, but it would have been nice to have been _asked..._ because, hey, you know… Acting Commander at work here…

But he's not that offended. As he supposes that there's a position open for him at Stargate Command, or at the all-new, shiny Area 51… and that's where he started… so that's kinda in reverse too… end meets beginning...

He's glad to keep busy. It takes his mind off Daedalus' arrival. Ronon and Teyla aren't leaving until tomorrow, delaying their departure until the last possible moment. They plan to meet Caldwell in person… to try and persuade him…

And Rodney hates all this… because it has driven a wedge between them… especially Ronon… because Ronon… being Ronon… is there with the pressure wanting Rodney to… what? Ronon's glowering looks say it all… or he won't look at Rodney at all… he's saying… he's saying… you're not a man, Rodney… he's saying… he's saying you cannot count yourself as Sheppard's friend… But what does he expect Rodney to do? Use force to clear Sheppard's name and to allow Teyla her husband for burial? The pair are just not talking to him… and it's… unbearable… that's what it is… unbearable…

He said as much to Jenny the night before, though she'd been sleepy, head buried face down in the pillow. He'd thought she'd only heard half of everything he'd said… He wasn't sleepy. He was wide awake. He'd laid flat on his back staring into the darkness.

'I hate this… not... not just Sheppard dying… but what's happening between me and the other two… They're not talking to me… I'm sure of it… They've become... sort of distant… They don't like me anymore…'

' 'Maging it, Rodney. They'd never do that… not in a million years… You guys are too close…'

'They think I should do more. What do they want me to do? Take Atlantis back to Earth? Blow up Command?... You don't think Ronon's planning something… Teyla and Ronon?... Without me? And not saying… because they don't… trust me? I'm still in Command, you know… I still have a job to do… but… this Commander thing… split loyalties, you know…'

'You're getting paranoic… What d'yer think they'd do? Hijack the Daedalus single handed?' she'd drawled… and then, as if waking… as if realising some truth in what Rodney had been suggesting. 'Oh God, he would, wouldn't he?...' Because that's what Ronon had always done… single handedly… against all odds… it'd never stop Ronon before. And then she'd relaxed, assured by a thought, and had snuggled back into the blankets, had cuddled closer against Rodney's back... which was nice... 'No… no… Teyla would never let Ronon do anything quite so reckless. Remember women? They're a calming influence?'

'Yeah… yeah, you're right… Hope you're right…' He can't loose two more friends… If Ronon were planning something, he'd just end up… dead… Or get himself thrown in a cell… Or... dead…

'They could stowaway…' he'd suddenly thought. And he could help them with that… He has the Daedalus' blueprints… He knows the best places to hide without being detected... He could provide supplies… No. It's what Caldwell would be expecting. He'll concede and allow them passage. Or, and this was much more probable, not at all. They'd end up getting sent straight back… Or in a cell… Or dead…

'Rodney… Teyla wouldn't do anything like that…' And Jenny had wriggled her arm around his neck. 'You know… I'm not supposed to say… she's carrying their daughter… She wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the baby…'

'Oh, God! No!… Truly?! That's awful. No. I didn't mean it like that… I'm pleased for her naturally but…'

'Rotten timing, huh? Yeah… I know… and she wouldn't leave Tagan and JJ alone either. Look, I think you're worrying needlessly. And I'm sure they _are_ still talking to you. It's just such a strain for everyone at the moment. In two days time… well, we've got to face up to that final goodbye… and I doubt if anyone is looking forward to that.'

'Yeah… Yeah… you're probably right… that's all it is…'

But what can Rodney do? What can he do?… Really?

He's prodding and poking amongst the laden pallets and trolleys. Checking and cross checking. Because you can't trust people to get this right. Whilst simultaneously trying to bat off infinite, infantile questions. But… this is something that he's been asked to do, as Acting Commander, to decide what goes and what stays. Because not everything can make the trip back. And this is going to be weird… but... is this what the Atlanteans did all those thousands of years ago? Left equipment behind because not everything could be sent to Earth… and then submerged Atlantis… because, yes… he's been given the go ahead for that too… Is he going to be like those Atlanteans? Hoping to return one day… and because no one ever does actually return… is he going to be leaving it for future generations to rediscover?... A note to self then… if he finds the time… to create a hologram… explaining what happened here… no Wraith invasion this time, but a lack of funding… and he shakes his head… difficult as he's bent down near the ground because some cretin has stuck a serial number on upside down… but then the Atlanteans probably had never to contend with famine and oil crises and crashing stock markets back home…

And would he mention… Sheppard? He straightens. Thoughtful. Yes. He would. No one back home need know he'd done that… Sheppard's story… his memorial… here forever… yes… he'd make sure he made the time… here forever… well, until the sun came too close, anyhow…

"Mind that!" He yells as a precious piece of technology out of Janus' lab, as yet uncatalogued, is unceremoniously dumped on the floor by two hulking marines who can't read even simple symbols like arrows or wineglasses. "Other way up! Other way up!" He screams at them.

"Rodney?"

"What?!"

Radek carries on unperturbed despite the outburst. He's used to Rodney by now. Rodney would have to increase his volume by another ten decibels before Radek will even blink at him, let alone run for cover like other lab techs.

"You don't happen to have seen box no. S2QW7X?"

"Dr. McKay?"

"What?!" And Chuck blinks at him.

"Rodney?" And Jenny's on his earpiece.

"What?!" He yells into the radio. "Oh… sorry… hon…" And he reddens as Chuck and Radek look away, going red themselves…

"What's wrong?" asks Jenny. "You sound hassled… Have you eaten lately?... Take deep breaths… I know how you feel… like we're going to run out of time… I called because I need more packaging."

"I'll get some sent up."

"Thanks… remember… deep breaths… bye…"

"Bye." He scowls round despite the pleasant interlude. And Radek is disappearing through the door, muttering about sorting out his own problems and crazy coding systems devised by sadistic Acting Commanders…

Chuck still stands there… which is odd… because Chuck should be up in the Control Room… and if he needs to speak to Rodney… then there is the radio… intercom… so… something is wrong… something is very wrong… and Chuck's face sort of confirms it…

"Chuck?" And Rodney is surprised at how kind and understanding his own voice is… well, Commanders have to do that too… wear all the hats… and then... there's that sense of foreboding…

"There's another encrypted communication from Stargate…" and Chuck trails off.

"Another? I thought they'd all stopped now." They'd been no need for more. All comms were now simply about housekeeping… tonnage… personnel… priorities… labelling… bathroom paper…

"This is different…" and Chuck looks round, unwilling, apparently, to let anyone overhear. "Pre-recorded with a delay in transmission… Like… whoever sent it didn't want to hang around anymore… and... it's a condensed file to limit detection… It's not been sent on one of our regular codes… though it's one I've come across once before…"

"When? Who?"

Chuck comes close though hesitant about the close proximity and whispers a name into Rodney's ear.

"Kavanagh."

"Kavanagh? Why would Kavanagh be sending us… a message?" To insult them? To gloat? To tell them that at long last, Stargate Command have come to see, what Kavanagh has know all along, just how useless and incompetent the Pegasus expedition was, and that they were perfectly justified, therefore abandoning it… He needed to say all that? In secrecy?

Chuck nods. "I thought you'd want to de-code it yourself… it's a tricky one… Kavanagh used it to send home complaints…"

"Right…" And because it was closest… "I'll be right up…" Woolsey's office again. And he has butterflies, but what could be worse than being told that Sheppard was dead?

It takes him a full ten minutes to set the decipher up from the info Chuck provides. And the video itself has further security checks which Rodney soon hacks through. Anyone else would have found it impossible. Kavanagh must have known that. There was nothing there that would beat Rodney. Kavanagh intended it for Rodney's attention only then…

The screen lights up. No suggestion as to what it's all about.

Kavanagh's straight in there… blubbering… and Rodney's taken aback… and instantly presses pause… and then re-play, wondering if he's missed the beginning…

No… a grown man crying… unshaven… hasn't slept obviously… wide eyed… _afraid… scared… terrified…_

"I haven't long… two tapes here… They think I'm one of _them_… but I'm not… I'm not a Judas…" A hand comes up and he wipes his nose and he pulls himself together, sniffing… "It's Trust, McKay... I'm sure it's Trust… got to be… and... they're in the IOA… They've been hacking into the budget files… siphoning off funds… double edged, you see… reducing income to Stargate and using it for their own ends… that's what Sheppard and Woolsey found out… Woolsey… I guess they poisoned him… got the autopsy faked… like Sheppard's… A Dr. Bryers carried out the both of them… Can't find any proof he's in their pay though… Perhaps they just promised promotion… like they did me… Perhaps they threatened him… like… they did me… his family… but I won't be a Judas… I didn't know what I was getting into… Oh God! McKay! What did I do?... They got me to doctor the surveillance tape… the one Lantry saw… wasn't difficult… used footage from other tapes… had to make it so the tape would stand scrutiny… that was more difficult… that's why they asked me… to make it convincing... to make it look like a struggle… He wouldn't struggle you see… they pushed him and he wouldn't… he just wouldn't… so I had to make it look like he had… that was bad enough… but it wasn't… You watch it, McKay!… I won't be a party to this… I won't be responsible… I know what I've been like in the past… but I won't do this… I can't bring him back… but I can do this… I'm not one of them… I don't know who to turn to… give this to Caldwell… I'm sure he's clean… they're onto me… I'll be next… I'm going to… I'm going to… never mind… never mind... watch this McKay…"

The screen suddenly cuts to a cell.

Two marines and an officer. A lieutenant… someone Rodney is sure he's never seen before but he never remembers names or faces...

And Sheppard.

And Rodney's heart misses two beats. Sheppard alive still.

Sheppard on the bed. Casual. Hands behind his head on the pillow. He stands as the marines enter.

"Hands forward!" Orders one marine producing a plastic tie restraint.

Sheppard does as he's told. And Rodney's sure he says something then… but the picture's fuzzy… a blur… and it seems like Sheppard moves forward suddenly before the tie is secured… but he's hidden by the movement of the marines who are shouting and swearing and ordering him to hold still… and Sheppard seems to be holding onto a marine and lurches towards the door… and the door is slammed shut to prevent his exit… there's a shot… and the picture clears… and Sheppard is on the ground, huddled against the bed and slowly slumps to the floor…

Rodney stares at the screen horrified… this is how it'd happened… so quickly… oh God… this is how it'd happened…

And Kavanagh is talking again… "You watch this, McKay… You watch this…"

Apparently, a repeat.

Sheppard is again on the bed. Casual. Hands behind his head on the pillow.

"Hi there, fellas… time for breakfast? Kinda early, aren't yer? Though I'm hungry… you guys forgot supper, you know?"

They ignore him. Not in the mood for his humour.

"Stand!" Orders the Lieutenant.

"Anything to oblige!" And Sheppard pushes off the bed and stands and faces them.

"Hands forward!" And a marine produces a tie.

Sheppard's face falls. He glances down at the tie. "There's no need for this-" he says quietly.

"-Hands forward!" repeats the Marine.

Sheppard does as instructed and allows his hands to be bound. "Hands forward, guys? Sure? Not being a little sloppy, huh? How I remember training, it should be hands back…" They want him to resist. They want him to try and take them out. They're not careful with their weapons either. They want Sheppard to make a break for it. They've even left a gap that leads straight to the open door...

And the Lieutenant's at the door way. Checking the corridor. They don't want witnesses…

And Sheppard knows… Rodney can see that… even with the shadows in the cell… Rodney can see that… Sheppard is trapped… and he won't rise to the bait… And tears well in Rodney's eyes… because... it's the bravest thing that Sheppard's ever done…

There's hesitation on the part of the soldiers.

"We, er, going somewhere then?" asks Sheppard indicating the door with his head. He still won't go... won't run...

One marine moves in front of the camera blocking the view with his back… and suddenly his rifle comes up and slams into Sheppard across the chest… Sheppard takes it… doesn't deflect the blow, though he must have seen it coming… must have done… and though the soldier is still in the way… Rodney sees Sheppard bend over doubled… winded by the blow… breathing hard down to the floor…

"Guys…" he gasps, "don't exactly remember that being in training either…"

And he starts to straighten up… and the marine brings up the rifle again… hard across his face… and Sheppard falls to the side, landing clumsily against the bed, knees buckling beneath him.

And the door is slammed shut now. To conceal the groaning from the figure on the floor.

"What d'yer want?... A confession?... Is that what you're after?... You sorta caught us red handed-" And he's coughing, spitting blood from damaged lips that he wipes gingerly with his two tied hands.

And the marine has moved slightly. And Sheppard can be seen fully now, looking up at the camera. It feels like he's looking straight at Rodney… and it's as bad as the time Todd first fed on him… he knows it going to end here… that he's being roughed up just to provide bruises… for the alibi… for afterwards…

"Stand up!"

"Don't… think so…" and he's kicked a few times by both marines, grunting with every contact of their boots.

"Stand up!" And a marine pulls Sheppard up… and Sheppard lurches forward and leans on him for support… so he doesn't fall again… but from behind… from the camera… it looks like Sheppard is grappling with the marine…

He's left to stand on his own… and he's swallowing hard… catching breath… swaying even…

And the Lieutenant gives a nod.

And the two marines roughly turn Sheppard around and push him to the wall.

"Kneel!"

Perhaps even now they'd still like it if he puts up a fight…

"Kneel!"

And he does so. Without a word. Painfully. Slowly. Deliberately slowly. First the right leg. And then the left.

And then glances sideways at the camera again. There's blood across his face. And it hurts Rodney so much to see him like this. A split second. And Sheppard's eyes narrow. A blink. A faint movement… He's saying good-bye… He's hoping that someone will watch this and care…

A marine grabs a handful of Sheppard's hair and jerks his head back, and Sheppard flinches as the nuzzle of a hand gun is pressed tight against the underside of his jaw.

The marine hesitates again. Waiting for the order. And Sheppard moves his chin slightly. Defiant. Yes. Thinks Rodney. It is defiance.

"Do it," Sheppard says through gritted teeth. And the marine looks to his officer, questioning. Who nods again.

The marine moves and obscures the camera.

A shot.

And Sheppard slumps to the floor.

Blood on the wall.

Five more shots.

To the chest and head. To make sure.

Sheppard's body jerking with each successive shot.

And then he is still…

"You see, McKay!..." shrieks Kavanagh, "You see! Not accidental! It was murder!… No. Not murder. A freaking execution! That's what it was… an execution!"

-oAo-


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Alternative Reality II.

He shivers. Evening again. And a pink and orange sunset streaks through the clouds, reflecting blood red diamonds in a calm sea.

He sets the alarm code and locks the cabin door. Something stirs in the shadows by the garbage cans. He hopes it's not vermin. Probably just some litter snagged up and flapping in the evening breeze. He'll see to it in the morning.

He pockets the keys in his shorts and takes a firmer hold of the bottle he'd tucked under an arm while he secured the premises. And it's odd. Because it's the second night running he doesn't feel the need for a drink.

But he walks across the sand, out to the shoreline, all the same, kicking off his beach shoes, shoving them into another deep pocket, not minding the cold water of the shallows against his feet as he takes a stroll.

A calm sea. The forecast had been for inconsistent and minimal surf and they hadn't been far wrong. Not a good day for business. He'd already let Freddie, a student working his way through college, and Thor (who the hell calls their kids, Thor?), his permanent assistant, home early. Freddie was glad to get away. He reminds John a lot of Rodney. Always with his ailments. Which is weird for a surf enthusiast. He'd said the smell of paint upsets his sinuses. And the sign painters had only just moved out. But John was keen to be rid of the name of previous owner… Shark's Bite. He chose Pegasus instead. Cheaper than Puddle Jumper. And Thor was impressed. 'Winged Horse… yeah… that's good.' It certainly didn't sound as dangerous as Shark's Bite… if only they knew…

And he allows himself a smile. David had said he'd make Dad turn over in his grave if he opened a surf shack. And here he is… and here he is thinking about profitability and dollars in the till…

It's not that the money is important… though he hasn't enough to squander… five years back pay accumulating in a bank account and a disability pension will only go so far… and he knows that he could only afford a small franchise on one of the lesser beaches… he's never going to make a fortune… but he's his own boss and gets to surf whenever he wants… and when you can't fly anymore… surfing is the next best thing… he's free out there… on the waves… and nothing else matters… to chose the moment… to enjoy the thrill… to drive your body to its limits… to concentrate… mind on nothing else… to make the moment perfect… a world slipping away at speed beneath your feet… clear and white… a constant white noise… the surf filling your mind and body… he can nearly forget... and... the water heals…

Perhaps he just needed something completely different to take his mind off… what's past… an analyst would probably be pleased with him…

Still, one drink wouldn't hurt… and he unscrews the bottle and takes a swig.

Not exactly good manners he knows. But it's virtually dark now, with lights twinkling from the expensive homes further along the cliffs, and he has the beach to himself.

Ah well… another drink…

The smell of a barbie drifts in the air and he feels hungry. He'll grab something on the way home… God, and tomorrow night, he'd promised to go round the neighbours… How did he ever manage say yes to that?... Unavoidable… A Mrs. Deirdre Spencer. And her daughter, Jane, a primary school teacher who's divorced and available. When he first moved into his home, Mrs. Spencer was soon round with the home-baked cakes and the invitations… And there came a point when he couldn't refuse any longer… He knows the woman is trying to pair him off with her only daughter… How can he say… How can he explain he's… screaming inside because he's lost everything he's ever known and really doesn't want the company?

He'd met Jane once on her own in the local grocery store… 'Look, don't mind Mom… she means well… Its embarrassingly obvious what she's trying to do, isn't it?… I'll try and keep her off your back… I'm not ready either, you know?… A messy divorce… not that… not that… I don't fan- … oh hell… this is embarrassing too!' And they'd laughed…

He takes another drink.

…And then Jane had glanced at the bottles in his trolley. 'You planning a party?' And it's his turn to feel embarrassed…

But… he does… does want the company… a part of him might still be screaming inside… but he knows that he misses human companionship… knew that when he first set out on his journey north… His first purchase. A Harley Davidson. Tourer. Ultra Classic Electra Glide. His... treat. Didn't let on to the salesmen that he actually couldn't feel much of the left-hand controls. Convinced him that he could. And that was what was important… Packed all he needed in the back. The freedom of the open road… Scenic routes… Solitude. He made it across the Canadian border… Thankful that the border control accepted his new papers without question… because hell he must have looked suspicious… he _felt_ suspicious… he felt like a fraud… 'Hey… great bike you have there…' heart missing a beat… was the guy eying up the Harley or really checking something else out?… hell, John… you've faced _Wraith_? What was wrong with him? Nervous about one guard? For no reason… Had he changed?...

He visits Rodney's grave… except it isn't… his name on a stone only… Teyla's… Ronon's… They're some place else… an alien sea where the aschatee calls… it's the sea… it's the sea where they are now…

He thought he might buy a place in the Rockies... Montana, miles from anywhere, anyone, everyone who couldn't possibly understand what he'd been through… Pegasus… Atlantis… Wraith… Replicators… the genii… Stargates… flying Puddle Jumpers… how could he ever have a normal conversation?... How long can you talk about the weather, politics or TV that he knows nothing about?... But after five years of living in everyone's lap, he missed human company, afterall… It's sort of double pronged… He hates to be with people… strangers... but he needs company because of the resulting loneliness of what has happened… a no-win situation…

So it was back to Plan A… and the lure of the sea… coz, yes… he missed that too… a helluva lot…

A final swig. And it's time…

_Night... Rodney… Ronon… Teyla… wherever you are, huh?_

And he throws the bottle high into the darkness…

"John Finley?"

"Wha…What?" He swerves round, spooked. And things spun a little with the sudden movement. He'd had too much to drink. How had he done that? And how had he let these three guys get so close without knowing? Yeah, there were three… dark shapes. Hoodies up. Faces concealed. And they're… big… bouncer types… all the feel of guys who work out… And he's... shaking… He shouldn't have drunk that much… There's a whole wide beach but they're close, one on either side pressing up close. They mean to frighten… to intimidate… and they were doing that ok…

"It _is_ John Finley, isn't it? Owner of the… Pegasus?" The one who isn't close… voice smooth and silky and threatening…

And they're nice and polite. They're not exactly going to mug him. But his reply is only a whisper. "Yeah…" He should do better than this. He should be telling them to scram. He should be telling them to get the hell away from him. He should be ready to fight his way out of this…

"Business doing ok?"

"And it concerns you, because?" He finds his courage, and Christ, it wasn't at the bottom of a bottle, was it?

"Now, now, John…"

"I don't remember giving you permission to-"

"-Oh, I always use first names with my business associates."

"Who the hell are you?" And John pushes at the arm of the guy on the right who is just too damned close. So then the guy on the left, grabs and jerks his left arm and pulls it up tight behind John's back, nearly wrenching it out of its socket, nearly lifting John bodily off the ground…

"Hey!" is all John can yell, eyes watering with the pain… and this is his dud arm that he can only half feel…

The guy who does all the talking, the guy who looks on, that John calls Cheerleader, comes round to the front, facing John.

"Behave, John. Are you gonna behave? If you say, yes, he'll let you go… _a little_…"

John says… nothing… He's really not in the mood to make this easy for them. He struggles but all it does is to earn him a tighter grip from Iron Claws… and then, he has a sudden fear… Cheerleader is too smooth talking… and he remembers Lennox… Lennox warning him about Trust… But this is too public a place… but then… a deserted beach as night falls… no one's going to know… if anything happens to him… until a body is washed up on the tide…

A nod from Cheerleader and the guy on the right lopes off towards the shop… towards the small parking lot…

"Who are you?" He gasps out, repeating himself. Like they'd tell him. And he tries to watch the one who's walked off… What's he doing? So near the shop…

"Lets just say, we're your insurance brokers…"

"Got… got insurance…" and he's still worried about the shop, not thinking… damn… the penny drops… a protection ring… that's why the former owner was so ready to sell out at a cut down price… How could he have been so stupid?… Green… fresh on the planet, that's how…

"No one ever has enough insurance, John. Not in these times. Don't you watch the news? Read the papers? Seen the statistics lately? Crime is so prevalent… assault... larceny... mindless vandalism... and... _arson..._ " And right on cue, there's a loud popping noise from the lot and flames suddenly light up the whole area…

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" His Harley. A fireball. And he's struggling again… and moaning as Iron Claws grabs his other arm and pins that up tight too.

"We'd better go now, John. Tomorrow, I'll send someone round with papers for you to sign and to lay out our terms. You really must protect yourself, you see… Good night, John. And you won't be so stupid as to go to the police, will you? Because… well... there's something in the small print that advises you to check out your health insurance too..." And Iron Claws pushes him down… and leaves with a parting kick, that curls John over, groaning, holding his side… the proverbial face in the sand… the weakling on the beach pushed around by the bullies… he should have fought this… what's wrong with him?... _what's wrong?_

A loud explosion as the fuel tank goes up. And though he's a good hundred or so metres away, he flinches with the heat.

He slowly and wearily picks himself up and makes for what's left of his bike, limping, holding his side tight… and holding an arm over his face to protect himself from the flames and intense brightness. It's too late to get the extinguisher from the shop… so he stands and watches with other onlookers who've now gathered round, listening to the echo of the sirens approaching along the Beach Road.

Five years dodging the bad guys in another Galaxy… and it's no different here… He really doesn't need this right now… he really doesn't…

-oAo-

AR. I.

"What are you going to do?" asks Radek in whispered tones, leaning across the mess hall table he is sharing with Rodney.

"I don't know… I don't know…" And this is the great Rodney McKay… the guy with all the answers… confiding in Radek… admitting he hadn't a clue…

Rodney looks down at his coffee, both hands firmly wrapped round the cup. His fingers taking in the heat because that helps a little with the shaking… a little…

"You have to tell them. You have to show it to them," urges Radek.

"You think?" And he looks up at Radek sharply. "I'm sorry…" and he waves a hand to the air. "Not your fault… Shouldn't take it out on you…" and returns to staring morosely at his drink.

God, but he does so hate Kavanagh right now…

And Rodney likes to think that Dr. Rodney McKay's actually a nice guy… ok… he rants and raves at his subordinates… but he never _actually _hates anyone… ok… so he fears the Wraith and wishes they wouldn't go around doing that vampire thing on all and sundry… but still it's not hatred… not the seething white rage of Ronon that cries out for revenge… nor the simmering bitterness of Teyla… and Rodney never hated Kavanagh either… low opinions aren't hatred… but he hates Kavanagh now… hates Kavanagh for making him watch that tape…

And now, Rodney has to consider, whether to show it to his two closest friends… and hadn't they been through enough already?...

He hates Kavanagh.

If Kavanagh had ever planned payback for all Atlantis had ever done to him, then this is undoubtedly, his finest hour. But Rodney's convinced that Kavanagh was in terror when he sent that tape. It was genuine. Not even Kavanagh could have put on such an act.

He hates Kavanagh.

Because now… now Rodney has to be more positive… He has to do those things that Ronon wants of him. He has to make that stand, on behalf of Sheppard. He has to live up to the name of Commander… because until now… he's been a sham… He knows that and he's nearly ashamed that he might have actually let Sheppard down… to have not done more at this point to defend the good name of Sheppard… to have not asked questions… to simply let things drift on… now... he knows he has to put things right… really, he shouldn't hate Kavanagh… really, he should like Kavanagh a lot… because Kavanagh has given him the ammunition… and the will…

"It's just… won't it?… don't you think?… you know…"

"Yes, Rodney?" Radek inclines his forehead slightly, encouraging Rodney to finish, _to make sense_… And Rodney stares at him, suddenly forgetting what it was he was going to say anyway… because here he is… asking for advice…_ from Radek_… about… _personal stuff_… when… once it'd been Sheppard… once it'd been Teyla and Ronon… And he's asking himself why he didn't go to Jenny? Perhaps he thinks that Radek is a more likely candidate to talk him out of this…

"Won't it… it'll just make more of a mess of things… Ronon is likely… you know…" And he gestures with a hand. And he imagines Ronon, loading up knives… guns… more knives, like some sort of Rambo… 'What are you going to do?' He'd ask, and Ronon would growl back as he storms towards the Daedalus, 'what do you think I'm going to do?! Start what you should have started two weeks ago! Talking is over!'

"And Teyla…" Rodney shakes his head. Imagining Teyla. Who should be the voice of reason. Joining Ronon. 'And I too, Rodney… I too, am going to do this thing… even though I am with child… I will not back away from my duty!' Spitting out her words… stamping on what little is left of Rodney's manhood…

He looks around the mess hall, cautious and lowers his head to whisper back to Radek. "And... what if Kavanagh is right? What if it is… you know who?" _Trust. _"And it has to be true… Who else would have the know how or a motive to hack into Stargate computer system and no one any the wiser?"

"Know how? Other than us two? No one… Colonel Carter? Dr. Lee perhaps? Motive? None of us…" And Radek purses his lips. Because you couldn't imagine any of them being so… dishonest.

"And…" and Rodney looks round a second time and pulls his chair closer… "if its… _them_… how can I endanger Ronon and Teyla, especially Teyla, especially with the children, with this information… I may have already put you at risk, telling you this, you know."

"Oh." And Radek sits up straight, alarmed. Because he really hadn't thought of that. And he's looking round anxiously too.

"We can't trust anyone…"

"Trust… no…" echoes Radek and it feels like a pun in there somewhere…

"And what can we do? It'd be the four of us against… _them._"

"Four of us? Yes." And Radek is not relishing that notion and he looks like he's wishing Rodney would _un-tell_ him that instant.

"Well, five…" because he guesses he can include Jenny… "Kavanagh…" and Rodney looks round a third time. Perhaps he shouldn't even be mentioning the scientist's name, as Kavanagh had suggested he was already on their hit list. "Our mutual friend…"

"Friend?"

"Ok, our mutual enemy… said that Caldwell was ok… He's been… one of _them _already so he's not about to let it happen again any time soon… He's our only hope… but how can I tell him without Teyla and Ronon ever finding out? Especially as they're going to plead a case for returning with him?"

"Well, Rodney, you've come round full circle… it is like I have said, you have to show Ronon and Teyla the video. Or least tell them of its contents."

So he wanders through the corridors of Atlantis, absently answering questions about the evacuation, aware of odd looks, because he's no longer yelling at everyone… trying to find mindless little tasks to put off the dreaded moment… in rooms miles from Teyla and Ronon… and then forgetting why he went there… trying to pick up the courage… wandering like a ghost… haunting… carrying a picture of another ghost… not on the USB flash drive that's hanging on a chain round his neck... though that's there too… but in his head… those images forever… Sheppard falling to the ground… jerking with each successive shot… an image that has joined that of Sheppard looking back through the Gate… for the last time…

-oAo-


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Alternative Reality II.

"What the hell happened… to… you?" asked Thor, pushing himself off from the wall, shutting off his cell phone, when John eventually _did_ turn up to open the premises. An hour late. Not helped because he now has to bus in. Not helped because there was another bottle waiting for him when he finally made it home last night… not helped because he'd slept through his alarm…

John said nothing as he switched off the security. He didn't have to. He employed Thor to mind the shop not to ask over his health. And he was well aware what had prompted the question… though it wasn't the first time he'd turned up unshaven… dark glasses on an overcast day… reaching for the painkillers stashed by the first aid kit in the small staff room at the back that doubled up as a store room.

"A guy dropped by earlier. Said to give you this." And Thor threw an envelope onto a stack of boxes before shuffling off his jacket. "Said you have a week to take up the offer. Said it was about some sort of insurance. Said you'd know what he was talking about. Said they'd get back to you."

John simply grunted and started shedding clothes too… he just longed… just longed to get into the water… to wash this all away…

"Hey, you're not thinking of going out?" Thor meant 'in your state'.

It was crammed in the little room. Thor would certainly be detecting the odour of the Scotch lingering… and the smell of smoke and burning oil… John had slept in his clothes… hadn't showered… woken up by a call from Thor… fallen back into a stupor… woken up groggily to yet another call from Thor… yeah… a state… a mess would pretty much sum John up at the moment… but it was still none of Thor's damned business.

"What are you, my mother?" And he held up the spare swim shorts he kept at the shop, to indicate that he'd like privacy now to strip off his boxers.

Thor took the hint and called back from the store. "Just don't expect me to come running if you freaking drown… not that you would… there's still no freaking surf today either…"

Freddie came running through the shop's entrance with a half eaten burger in his hand just as John had finished wriggling into his wet suit and had come out of the room, tossing the envelope into the trash can behind the counter.

"That's not your bike out there?!"

Since John hadn't been at the store first thing, Freddie had nipped across the road to Burgers R Us or whatever it called itself, where his girlfriend worked.

"Was."

"What happened?"

"Kids." And he selected a board out of the 'for rent' stack, that Thor was uncovering ready to put out for the day.

"Kids torched it?" Freddie was incredulous. "No way! The cops are pretty hard on that sort of thing… patrols every five ten minutes… " There were some pretty expensive properties only half a mile up the beach.

"Well… the system's not working…" and John swung the board through the door, grimacing as the action made his head thump even more… and tweaked at the bruise on his side, reminding him yet again of last night…

And how the hell did he think he was ever gonna mount this thing?…

"Where were you?" And Freddie was stuffing in the rest of the burger.

"On the beach. Walking."

"And you watched it go up?" With his mouth full. "Hey, that's tough…"

"Yeah… tell me…" And he left Freddie still chewing. And then, had a thought… and turned… "Thor…" he called back into the shop… "If that guy who came earlier shows up again… tell him, I'm not interested…" And then another thought. "You didn't happen to notice what did he looked like?"

Thor shrugged. "Couldn't say..." Thor was too damn busy on his phone to remember anyway...

"But you're insured, huh?" Asked Freddie. And for a moment, John wondered what 'insurance' he'd meant.

"The bike? Yeah… but they won't pay… not until the cops can catch whoever done it…" And John doubted that was ever going to happen in a million years. Patrol person O'Hara had been inclined to agree. He'd seen little point in telling the police about the three down on the beach. He could give no description. Or... he was scared? They _had_ warned him off… no… he guessed there was still something of the old John Sheppard about him… used to dealing things in his own way. "It's arson… so they think I set light to my own bike to claim the insurance."

"But you've only had it a few months!"

"Yeah… tell me about that too…" And that was sucks… not only had he lost his bike, but he'd lost the money used to buy it and wasn't too sure, what with starting up the new business he could afford another… certainly not a Harley… and he was virtually being accused of fraud… 24/7 _friendly_ service they'd said in their ads…

"And another thing, Thor? Someone's coming along this morning to pick up the bike… might as well give them the keys for what it's worth… they're on the counter…"

John would be glad to see the back of it now… charred and draped with a wreath of police tape and stickers…

And he finally left for the water.

And Thor was right. No surf. A bit of froth at waist high. Not that he had the energy anyhow. Though the short swim soon cleared his head. He lay stomach down on the board, eyes closed, his hands over the edges gently paddling from time to time. And drifted… enjoying the soft shushing sounds, basking with the warmth of the sun on his back, now hazily shining through thin cloud… like some moon on P18 Z26… hell, he had to stop doing that… forget it… just forget it… there's no going back… never… ever…

But his present problems sifted through all that... So what was he going to do? Drink more malt and hoped it would all just go away?... Well, it wasn't. Paying these guys was never an option either… Couldn't go to the police… he'd been warned off… and if even he did… they'd probably put him on some sort of witness protection scheme… change his name again… And Lennox had said to keep a low profile?... It was all becoming such a mess… and life… life had seemed like it was just getting sorted again… but he couldn't fight them, not on his own… and he guessed these three were part of something bigger… a syndicate… if he did take them on… they'd simply be replacements following along later… with baseball bats… He knew that Thor stashed a gun under the counter and had made sure Freddie knew how to use it. So he guessed he'd better go get himself one too… get some practice in… though it'd been seven months since he'd handled a gun… the last time... the last time... they'd come across a small group of Wraith on M21 PQ6… of course, _Todd said_ he knew nothing about it… Teyla… Ronon… McKay… Sheppard… together… a Team… watching each other's backs…

Sheppard alone… alone now… drifting at sea…

_And the aschatee settled at last… an occasional flapping of wings… nestling restlessly in the waves… not even attempting to swim… no direction whatsoever… lost… lost…_

The board bumped heavily into the sand and he woke… and he stumbled up to his feet… hardly able to see with the salt water in his eyes… Patrol Person O'Hara threw him a towel… and yeah, that did sort of help...

"I'm sure there's more comfortable places to get some shut eye," she said.

He stooped down quickly to grab his board before a wave took it away again, planting it down on the sand, and then set about rubbing his face and shoulders. Squinting at O'Hara and her partner, who was grinning… What was _his_ problem? John couldn't remember the guy's name from the evening before. O'Hara, he remembered. On account of her shocking red hair. He wondered then if she'd ever been nicknamed Scarlett… Pleasant looking enough, with freckles, squarely built… the air about her… that she could take on anyone… no messing… the female contingent of Lorne's marines often were too…

Had everything always gotta be linked to… gotta go back to Atlantis?…

He unzipped the suit, wriggled his arms out and folded it down to his waist, finishing towelling off the rest of his body, teeth chattering slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed that the two were watching him…

He noticed last night's bottle bobbing in a foot of water… and with a pang remembered throwing it… it'd have to wait till later before he could pick it up…

And he slung the towel round his neck, picked up the board and headed back to the store. They followed him. He could see their patrol car parked in the lot... and his bike now thankfully gone…

"You wanted something?" God, had they come to arrest him? Come to drag him out of the water and arrest him?

"That bruise? That from the board?"

That's what she'd come to talk about? He looked down surprised. So she'd noticed? And she would have noticed his scars too… but she could have only just noticed that minute… That's not why she was here.

"Yeah…"

"Didn't think it'd been that rough lately…"

"I'm not that good…"

"Look pretty good to me…" What was that supposed to mean? And he reddened. And the guy cop was grinning harder than ever. Like some goofy dog. Sheppard called him Pooch.

"Sure the bruise wasn't due to something else?"

"Yeah… sure. What did you come for, officer? Not to discuss-"

"-Your's wasn't the only incident of arson last night affecting a store holder… on that occasion, a garage with two cars and equipment were lost."

They'd reached the shack and John propped the board against the wall and turned to face them. "Well, it wasn't me."

"Course not… you were with us at the time…" He'd been joking… they weren't…

"The guy in question was beat up pretty bad though… made out he didn't know who did it…"

"Perhaps that's because… he didn't?…" John put his hands on his hips… his best attempt at so-what's-this-to-do-with-me?

The other officer butted in now, changing tack completely. "We've checked you out… you're ex-military? Injured in Iraq and pensioned off?" Yeah… that was the background story Lennox had given him… "But not too badly injured right?" And he glanced at the scars again.

"Look, what are you driving at?" because he really did want to get out of his wet suit.

"Ex-military… you might think you could take care of yourself," said Pooch.

"What my partner is trying to say is this, we believe there's an extortion ring operating in the area… if you've been offered some… 'insurance'… been threatened in any way… we'd rather you said… don't try and take them on… we don't like vigilantes on our doorstep any more than we like these protection guys… we take a dim view of people taking the law into their own hands… also... you could get hurt…"

They were seeing straight through him.

"I'll bear that in mind and thanks for the advice… but I'm sure my bike was down to kids-"

"-A witness said they'd seen two guys hanging round here earlier, acting suspicious."

"They did?" John felt a wave of alarm surge through his stomach. The noise he'd heard by the trash cans. They'd been watching him? Perhaps they were watching him now… as he talked to the cops… Why doesn't he just come clean and tell them? And get this thing nipped in the bud…

Pooch suddenly had to answer his radio and walked off a few paces to take the call.

"That's why we came round," said Scarlett, "thought you'd like to know how we're getting on with our investigations. If you want to ask us anything, or want to add anything to your statement of last night, " which had said very little… "you still have the number of our department?" Scarlett raised a hand slightly by way of saying good-bye and jogged over to join her partner, the two of them then hurrying over to their car.

John watched them leave. Lights flashing and siren wailing…

He rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. What the hell was he going to do? He turned to go in and change. And Thor stood at the door.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah. Board needs waxing," said John curtly and pushed past him. Why take this out on the guys? This really wasn't their fault. And it wasn't _his_ either.

"Sure. I'll get Freddie on it… You in some kind of trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle…" Yeah, real tough guy… John Sheppard. And he closed the staff room door behind him… and leaned heavily back against it and closed his eyes tight… What the hell was he going to do?... Why did life have to go and get so damn complicated… Why did it keep screwing with him? Feeling sorry for yourself, huh? Yeah, and why not?… A great hunk of his life had disappeared in one hour flat… That line of life had zigzagged and opened up as a chasm, and swallowed everything he knew or cared about… And now this…

He opened his eyes and made for the little bathroom at the back. Inside, besides a basin and a toilet was a basic white shower cubicle. He set the water to run hot and went back in the staff room, picking up the bag he'd brought with him. A little early for this he knew… and unscrewed the bottle…

-oAo-

AR. I.

Ronon was silent as he watched the video. Cross-legged on his bed. A laptop of Rodney's perched in front of him. Inscrutable save for the odd flicker that he couldn't control. The odd pursing of his lips… no doubt contempt from seeing Kavanagh. No reaction even to Rodney's constant pacing up and down…

When it had finished, he swung his legs off the bed, stood and walked out of the room, without saying a word, leaving Rodney staring after him.

"Huh, Ronon?" Rodney lifted a finger to ask a question, and then dropped it… the finger and the question… He wanted to ask about telling Teyla… Perhaps that's where Ronon was going?... Perhaps not… Perhaps some balcony somewhere to yell and vent his frustration and anger to the winds… Perhaps Rodney should go after him… a friend in need… but… and Rodney didn't mean to sound self-centred… not even to himself but… wasn't _he_ a friend in need too?… Hadn't _he_ just watched Sheppard get all murdered too?

He felt… alone and lost again… as if the past five years had never been… as if they'd never been the four of them together… there for each other… ever…

Of course, he and Ronon had never been the strongest link… Ronon he knew had always regarded Rodney as something of an irritation… and Rodney had seen Ronon as something of the hired thug… but they were team… they were bonded by common experience… goals, aim, achievements… thrown together by… fate?... no, Rodney didn't believe in that either… the sheer randomness of the Universe?... no... but like a molecule?... particles… round a nucleus?... All to fall apart now, now that the nucleus had gone... When they needed to be at their strongest… for each other...

Well…

He drew back his shoulders and left the room too.

Finding Ronon five minutes later on a balcony. Leaning on the rail. Hands clasped. Wind in his face. So strong it occasionally lifted his dread locks. He simply nodded at Rodney's approach. And Rodney leaned on the rail too.

They were silent.

A single aschatee breezed between the towers, quivering wings level in flight, calling from time to time.

"It's unlucky to kill an aschatee you know…" said Ronon eventually. Emotion in his words. Ending in a sniff. My God, thought Rodney, he'd been… his eyes were red too…

"They say that about the albatross on Earth. Sailors. Old sailors. The albatross... they're thought to be the spirits of dead... sailors... I don't know if sailors now… I couldn't imagine that they would… think to…kill... them... Animal activists wouldn't like it much…" Ronon glanced at him. Rodney might as well have been talking in Ancient Greek… not that Rodney could actually speak Ancient Greek. Unless it was maths Ancient Greek, of course. "The two birds are very similar, you know," he finished lamely.

"I… think it's nesting…" And Ronon swallowed hard. He's trying to put a brave face on this, thought Rodney. Talking about nothing in particular. Talking about anything other than what was really on his mind. "A place there… over on the West Tower… see it?" And he pointed. Rodney squinted hard… but no… he couldn't see it. He hadn't got Ronon's trained eye, and quite honestly, he hadn't got a clue what it was he was supposed to be looking for, anyway.

Silence again between the two men.

"What do you aim to do, McKay?" asked Ronon at length, shifting his body slightly, looking down at his hands, hanging loosely over the rail. This wasn't the man that Rodney had thought would go all… berserk and crazy like. He looked defeated… and in a way… Rodney found that more worrying. Perhaps Ronon had already gotten it out of his system. Perhaps there was a smashed wall somewhere that Rodney had got to get Engineering to look at.

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"About?"

"Sheppard."

"Well, for starters, do as Kavanagh says and give the video to Caldwell."

Ronon straightened up, faced him, a slight smirk on his face, though no humour in his eyes.

"You mean… _talk_?"

"I can't see what else-"

Ronon brushed past him and left the balcony.

"-What if he doesn't want to listen?"

Rodney twisted round and followed him out into the corridor.

"I'm sure he will."

"What if he doesn't? You guys… you always seem to be concerned about… your position."

"What do you want me to do? I can't exactly force Caldwell to do anything, can I? Go to Earth with guns blazing, huh? Take Atlantis and pit her against the Daedalus and the Apollo? My position, yeah, Commander right? Have to think of people's safety…"

"Not your own?"

Rodney accepted the criticism. Though he felt it was unfair and really not true. But he did have to think of all the scientists, engineers on Atlantis… all the innocent guys on the two ships… and it all felt drastic to go to those extremes… but it might come to it… if the Trust was too ingrained already… and this was under his Command?... His shift?... Could he do all that?.... Could he really be the one in charge who'd have to take Atlantis… to war?... He wasn't ready… He just wasn't ready… He'd only just got to the stage where he felt confident enough to ensure the mess hall hadn't run out of paper serviettes… How could he possibly be expected now to devise strategies, plots, battle manoeuvres?... That was all bad enough. But to do this against their _own_ people?

"And if just the two of us stormed through the Gate, what would it achieve except to quickly meet the same fate as Sheppard and Woolsey? And... there's little point dreaming up some subterfuge to get me near a computer at Command, they'll be waiting for that… I guess…" and then it dawned on Rodney, and it felt gross to be thinking this and made Rodney feel sick and nauseous... but... all those excuses to keep them away from the funeral... was so they wouldn't ask questions… if Teyla had seen Sheppard's body… she would have known his death hadn't been an accident…

And then Rodney said what he was thinking… what he'd always been thinking...

"And none of this... it won't… bring him back…"

Ronon stopped, and half turned, seeming to consider the blank wall opposite.

"No… no it won't… but… this Trust thing… that Kavanagh talked about… it'd be bad wouldn't it?… If they've infiltrated Command?"

"Kavanagh didn't always get his facts straight…"

"But something's wrong… Sheppard and Woolsey got killed for what they found out… their murderers are out there… free… And that's wrong too."

"What… what do _you_ aim to do?"

"I'd always intended to clear Sheppard's name…" There. Rodney knew it. Ronon had been scheming something all along. And he guessed he'd go along with it, since he hadn't exactly any ideas himself…

"So, what's the plan?" asked Rodney a little more brightly, feeling a degree unburdened from his Commander thing, feeling some of the responsibility for taking on the bad guys lifting from his shoulders…

"I don't know…" Was he being truthful? Rodney scanned his face. Certain that he was. But disappointed all the same.

"Oh… so… no plans then… You know, there's an irony here somewhere, we're doing this for Sheppard, but we need _him_ to come up with a plan."

"We'll think of something. First, we gotta tell Teyla."

-oAo-

AR. I.

He sits in the semi-dark. There's a hazy moon through thin cloud and enough light coming from the parking lot lamps. He's on the sand, back propped against a rock. It's not especially comfortable… but he doesn't care.

"Guys!" He toasts. And he goes to take a final mouthful but the bottle is empty. How… how did that happen? He shakes it but it really is empty. _Mustchavespielledsome._ He throws it towards the sea. Underarm. It bounces a couple feet away and simply rolls a couple of feet more. He leaves it there.

The surf is roaring loud across the beach this evening. The breeze flicking at his hair. He's not aware. If he is cold he's not aware.

The contents of the bottle is doing its trick already and he doses. Starts. He can't fall asleep here. There are patrols to move on the beach bums, the would-be all night campers, run away teenagers, dealers and users… you name it and they're here… so what category is he?

He should go. He's been in these clothes all day and all last night. That's not nice…

He rolls over onto all fours and attempts to push himself off the ground. The world seems to roll too… and he falls flat on his face and eats sand. Spits it out in disgust and then allows his cheek to lay against the cool damp sand. Perhaps should... sleep... more…

A shrill noise heard above the breakers. Star Wars. Gotta change that. So corny. And fumbles in his pocket for his cell phone whilst managing to sit up… somehow.

"Yeah?"

"John?" A female voice. Unfamiliar and uncertain whether to use his first name. "You… you haven't forgotten… to come round for dinner? Only, it's gone eight…"

"Fuck!" Jane Spencer and her mother. Damn. And he'd sworn. Jane must have heard that...

"John?"

"Sorry… yeah… did... forget…" Should have at least made an excuse… not said the truth… He tries to keep the slur out of his voice and its not easy... "Sorry… So much on at the moment. Can I take a rain check on that?" No. Mrs Spencer would have been cooking all day. Not fair. He's… he's got to do better than that… "Can it hold an hour? I'll be there in an hour?"

"We could do it again tomorrow if you'd rather?"

"No. An hour's fine. If... that's alright with you."

"See you in an hour then."

"Yeah. I'll be hungry then. See you." How the hell was he going to do that? Get back home. Cleaned up… sobered up… and a headache now screwing with his eyeballs…

He gets up more easily this time. Nothing like an emergency to get his head together. Stubs his toe kicking it against the empty bottle. Damn! He hobbles painfully towards the shack. Scrolling down with clumsy fingers and eyes that won't focus, searching for the cab number he has logged on the phone's menu. The blue light on the cell fills his world… then…

...drops it… ducking instinctively…

"No!"

…holds an arm over his face… yellow explosive light fills the night… heat scorches his face and arm… _not again..._

Already flames ten foot higher than the roof, licking at edges of shattered windows. "No!... No!" A raging ball of fire, roaring louder than the sea… his store…

He stumbles along the beach. Fighting the need to vomit. Falling once, on knees like they're made of rubber, that just won't propel him as fast as he'd like to go… Why did he drink so much? "No… no… don't!... don't!" Shouting... at what?... _at the flames?_

Silhouette figures black shadowed. Dancing against dancing flames coz he can't get his vision straight. They'd said a week… But they'd seen him talking with O'Hara…

"Hey! Hey you!" Like shouting scares them… like a drunken crap heap scares them…

From the side… _what?_

...reflexes too slow…

...doesn't see it till it's too late...

One blow across the back floors him. Pain shooting across his shoulders… stars in a grey sky... Eating sand again. Groaning.

What... what hit him?... A crow bar? They'd missed? Get up… gotta get up and fight…

…second time finishes it…

-oAo-


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Alternative Reality I.

"Whasher time?"

"Six." She said briskly.

Jenny was already moving around their shared quarters, pulling back curtains, letting in way, way too much sunlight. She was a doctor and she believed that this was healthy? How can anything be considered healthy that hurt your eyes that much and made you dive for cover? Vitamin C? It felt more like acid rain…

She was now banging on the small kitchen counter that stood in one corner of the room. She always liked a light breakfast of toast, juice, coffee rather than something cooked from the mess hall.

Rodney lowered the blankets and bravely ventured an open eye.

"You're still mad at me."

"Rodney." And she sighed. " I told you. I'm not mad at you. I'm not now. And I never was. I never could be." Without even looking his way. So. She was still mad at him. "I just wished you could have thought more… before diving in… that's all…" And now she was looking at him and waving her buttered knife in the air, talking between mouthfuls of toast. Still mad at him.

"You want any of this? It's time you were up…"

"Yeah… D Day." And his stomach did a somersault at the memory. The day the Daedalus would arrive… And suddenly he didn't feel like sharing breakfast with Jenny. It had been bad enough remembering telling Teyla about John…

And he swung his legs out of the bed clothes and stood, yawning, stretching… feeling the warmth of the sunshine through the windows… which really wasn't so bad after all…

"About yesterday… I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She stopped midway through swallowing her orange juice and gave him an odd look. "Well, no, it won't happen again, will it? Coz... how many times can anyone be told that their husband's been murdered?" And then she looked away, pretending to check the coffee pot. But she was wiping an eye quickly.

"Jenny…" And he's at the opposite side of the counter, and forcing her to put down her knife. Taking both her hands into his. "I really am sorry…" And he's saying sorry for something else entirely. "I really didn't think…"

And she's quiet and sad. "She could have… miscarried, Rodney." She didn't say, the same as I did… though she must have been thinking it… "No. Don't do that again. Come and get me first, huh? You were lucky that she's so strong."

"Jenny… you're strong too…"

"Don't Rodney… I don't want to talk about that… not today… not with all these other things going on…" But Jenny never wanted to talk about it… She pulled herself away and went over to the coffee machine and poured its contents into two cups… one extra large for Rodney…

"It must be hard for you…" to be near Teyla, with her third child on the way.

"Rodney… it was hard for you too…" And she sat back down on the breakfast stool and he came round to her side of the counter and she accepted his hand again. He simply nodded his head miserably. Remembering the time that he became separated from the Team because of a surprise attack of Wraith and it had been two whole days before he'd been rescued, and Jenny, sick with worry, had lost the baby... had been waiting for him to return to surprise him with the news that he was a father…

"I'm sorry…" he repeated, remembering feeling how it was all his fault… remembering how John had taken him off missions… and then Jenny had felt to blame… for not being stronger… had to insist that he went with the team again… that he wasn't to consider her…

"Why… why didn't you tell me first, Rodney? We're husband and wife and yet you didn't confide in me?"

"Didn't want to worry you…" This was breaking his heart because he _had_ wanted to turn to her… really did… nothing he would have liked more… he needed to turn to someone for support… but had sorta found it in Ronon… and really, shouldn't Rodney be strong too?... Shouldn't he, as Commander act on his own initiative without running to... _his wife?_ He was finding out just how lonely life was at the top… actually he was just plain lonely… sometimes he still needed those two beers and Sheppard...

"Will Teyla be ok?"

"Doctors thing here… she's as well as can be expected. She wouldn't accept any medication to help her sleep, though I'm sure she needed it. She thinks only of the boys… to be strong for them, and you know Teyla, she feels a link already with her daughter, so she is strong for her too. She's determined to be a father and a mother to them all… I hope she succeeds. I really do… Look, we've got to hustle… I'm bagging first shower, ok?" Rodney nodded and as she left the room, he walked over to the window with his coffee.

Two aschatee were flying that morning. How come the aschatee always reminded him of Sheppard? And he supposes it's because _everything_ reminds him of Sheppard... _dead sailors' souls_... Did dead Air Force colonels count?

And he'd never claim to be much of an ornithologist, not one at all actually… but he hoped that the approach of the Daedalus wouldn't disturb them… wherever their nest was…

He yawned again… yeah, he guessed thinking about bird watching could do that to a guy… but he'd had a pretty broken night's sleep, constantly waking, constantly thinking of the video. How many times had Sheppard died in the darkness?...

Thoughts too of Teyla. And he hated to think this of Teyla, but she had been acting strange, as in 'crazy', 'insane', 'one-flew-over-the-cuckoo's- nest-strange'. The reason he'd called for Jenny. He and Ronon hadn't shown Teyla the video. Jenny might think him tactless, insensitive even, but he'd thought to spare her that. They had more or less repeated Kavanagh's words. She'd said nothing through out… simply stared ahead of her… like at some distant horizon… though they were in her quarters… And when they'd finished… she continued to stare ahead, like they weren't there… like _nothing_ was there… composed, regal almost… and then said: 'I am pleased that John remained true to himself.' Come again? _Pleased?_

He knew that Teyla could do the composure, regal thing to perfection… but this was… extreme majesty… it was unnatural… he'd rather she'd cried… though he still wouldn't know how to react to that… hated it when women cried… though he knew you had to let them… get it out of their systems… but it always made him nervous and anxious and he'd always drop the tissue box he was passing… because that's what you had to do too… that and be sympathetic…

And whereas Ronon had assured him, he'd got nothing planned… Rodney suddenly wasn't so sure of Teyla… there is nothing like a woman scorned, they say… though that was a different sort of scorning… he knew that… but then there was opera… Teyla was straight out of opera… the silent vengeful heroine… the dagger up the sleeve… he'd have to watch out for her today if she decided to wear one of her long flowing numbers…

He could hear the shower in the neighbouring bathroom. A signal to finish his coffee and sort out his uniform… still where he'd left it the night before… slung over the back of a chair… pretty good for him… Jenny was training him well… in bachelor hood, it would have been scattered all over the floor… he guessed he ought to put something fresh on… today being such a big day… got to impress and all that…

He flipped on his laptop at the desk. Time to check emails too.

Hands on his clothes and the flash drive slipped to the floor.

He stared at it.

Sheppard. Sheppard was dead. Murdered. Executed.

He didn't need to see it again. That was the problem with perfect memory recall. But he picked up the drive all the same and plugged it into the computer.

John trying to be cheerful even though he was screwed.

John's look when his hands were tied.

John taking the beating, accepting, finally there was no way out this time. No rescue coming. No Rodney doing the super saving technology stuff. No Ronon with knives in his hair. No Teyla with well placed kicks.

John alone.

John dying alone. Body jerking with each successive shot. Rodney blinking, flinching with every successive shot…

He was still sitting, looking at the screen, a second time round, when Jenny re-entered the room.

He couldn't do composure quite like Teyla and quickly wiped his face with his fingers.

"Don't Rodney… don't look at it…" said Jenny softly, standing behind him, putting her arms round his shoulders.

He patted her clasped hands, scarcely able to say the words. "He was alone, Jenny, alone…"

"I know… "

"He's depending on us to put this right… and… I don't know how… I don't know how…"

-oAo-

AR. II.

John discharged himself early. They weren't too pleased, but he'd clocked up two and a half months in hospital already that year, so no way was he going to spend another day there longer than needed. The doctor on duty conceded, gruffly handing him some heavy duty painkillers to see him through, with a it's-your-funeral look.

And judging from his headache, that probably wasn't too far away…

They were probably glad to see the back of him. Someone who said little and had few visitors must be someone to steer clear of...

"Oh, only the one card?" ventured one nurse, sympathetically. From the Spencers. Grapes too so their visit was bearable… just… He thought he was only forgiven for overlooking their dinner date because… well, in the end he'd gotten himself a good excuse for missing it… They offered to bring him clothes and stuff. Apparently his shorts and tee had been cut off him. They were so bloody as to be irrecoverable, anyway, the staff explained. He acted surprised and shocked, but he knew that routine. His high number of requisitions for new uniforms over the past five years had been something of a standing joke. But he couldn't exactly say to the Spencers that Carson and Jenny were always cutting his clothes off…

He said he was ok. No way was he going to allow the ladies to rifle through his clothes. Or even buy him new. Oddly, his attackers couldn't have been so greedy to get their hands on his money… they'd left him his wallet.

"No family then?" asked the nurse.

"No," he said hoarsely. And they probably put his lack of voice down to the splitting headaches.

Scarlett and her pet dog called too. They returned his phone that they'd found on the beach. The tide hadn't gotten to it… so Lennox's numbers were safe… and John wondered if Lennox had gotten wind of any of this...

Pooch stood at the foot of the bed and waited quietly like the obedient dog he was.

"You're lucky that we came by when we did and scared them off," Scarlett said, sitting with one hip on the edge of the bed, pulling his grapes off the stalk and popping them into her mouth one by one between each word.

"But you didn't manage to catch them though?" And she gave him an odd look, catching the sarcasm in his voice. And they couldn't manage to come by five minutes sooner and stop the guys altogether? In John's books,_ that_ was lucky.

"Did you get a look at them?" she asked.

"No. Face down in the sand. Suffering from crow bar side effects. _Did you?_"

"Hmmm… don't think it was a crow bar somehow… would've taken your head clean off otherwise…" And not left him with a hairline fracture, concussion and a dozen stitches and 'severe contusions' all over his back... He looked at her. Unable to tell if she were serious or not. "Driftwood more like," she suggested. Well, he couldn't really say… all he knew for sure was, it wasn't a Wraith stunner gun or a beam from an alien space ship… but he couldn't tell her that.

"Thanks."

"So… looks like they might not have aimed to kill you…"

"Probably means they'll turn up again…" growled the guy dog in that deep low voice of his, so he sounded like, well, a dog.

"So… you'll keep us informed, won't you, Mr Finley? If anything new develops?" And he could never get used to that. Mr. Finley. Always on the tip of his tongue to say Colonel Sheppard. Not that he was ever one for rank. But he was just sort of used to it. Mr Finley always sounded like some tall thin sickly revenue inspector. "Because they _were_ offering you protection, weren't they? And you honestly didn't get to see them the first time round?"

"No. They wore hoods over their faces." He might as well come clean about that now. He was sorta feeling sorry for himself and at least these two were on his side. And… he liked Scarlett. She was gutsy the same way that Larrin was… had been… was… he didn't know anymore, did he?... Scarlett obviously knew he had been a Colonel once if they'd discovered his military record… Lennox had kept that bit of his past intact… but she didn't seem phased by the fact that he sort of out-ranked her.

"We'll get them, Mr Finley…" and she stood, popping the last of his grapes into her mouth, nodding her dog over to heel. "They'll get careless… forensic are looking all over what's left of your store. They're bound to find something. When they let you out of here, we'll have to arrange some sort of watch at your home. Take care now."

She didn't realise just how little she cheered him up with that… 'what's left of your store'…

He supposed he ought to go and take a look… at what was left of his store… He guessed very little considering it was mainly timber framed and most of the contents were poly-something-or-other. Thor had also paid the one visit. Probably concerned about his job. Freddie was too busy between burger snacks to make the time. John explained he'd get the place rebuilt… the insurance company conceding now that he really wasn't to blame for double arson… but if, in the meantime, Thor wanted to find work elsewhere… then go ahead, John had said… so he did… John thought he couldn't have been the best of employers…

So he was home early… and... he needed a drink…

He was home early and hated the feeling of dread as the cab dropped him off and he walked up the small drive. Not that he feared another attack from his 'protectors' or whatever it was he was supposed to call them. He was sober now… real sober… so he felt pretty well able to take care of himself. A handgun weighted down the bag he was carrying. A Beretta 92. Similar to his service model. An Elite so it was lighter. He'd asked the cab driver to wait outside the store while he saw to business. They'd offered him practice firing sessions at a range out back so he'd signed up for those too.

He supposed he should have told Scarlett he was out of hospital. He'd have extra security if he had police assigned to watch the place. But that wouldn't feel right… heck… he was supposed to have been a military commander in charge of guarding a lonely outpost in Pegasus… surely he could defend his own home?

And it was going to be third time lucky… for him… He wasn't about to let them get away with this a third time… no way…

He was home… except… this wasn't home… nowhere had ever been home… even as a kid… home had never been home… never close enough to his father... and his mother had died when he was young… and he'd been sent away to school… and possessions were always limited to whatever fitted into one locker…or a suitcase… hold-all... and that had never changed right through his military career… home was where his hat was… beds were always made with neat precision corners… three square meals came from the canteen… spells from tours of duty were often spent on friend's sofas… never any attachments… when it was time to move… you packed a bag and did that… moved on… except for his short marriage to Nancy… and then she'd chosen everything… the house… furnishings… he painfully remembered saying something slushy like, as long as we're together, that's home, that's all that matters… because that's how newly weds were… but that was the trouble… he was never home… and it didn't ever feel like home when he was… right from the silk chintz curtains… to the double range cooker… to the automated doors on the garage… it'd always felt wrong… this place was no different… he rented it, fully furnished and rather suspected that the previous tenants had been elderly… everything was a safe beige and make believe antique… but it should have felt comfortable enough… it didn't… it felt… empty… hollow…

Nowhere had ever been home… except one place… he knew that…

...and it was nothing to do with décor… though he hadn't opted for an apartment... deliberate on his part... apartments had felt too much like his quarters on Atlantis....

He collected his mail… ads… bills… something by hand that he didn't recognise… tucking them under his chin as he fumbled for his key in the sweats the hospital had lent him.

He glanced across to the neighbours. He was certain that if they'd seen the cab pull up, they'd be across shortly… unless he really had offended them… But he couldn't imagine Mrs Spencer would quite so readily pass off the opportunity of a potential son-in-law. And oddly, since it was the middle of the afternoon, the curtains were drawn. Perhaps Mrs Spencer was ill too? And it was too early for Jane to be home from school anyway.

He put the key in the lock… and then... stood there surprised… as the door slowly swung open… It was already unlocked and hadn't even been pulled shut? He'd left in so much of a hurry when Thor had phoned that other morning? The door had been unlocked all that time? Hell, why not just put up a big sign: 'Free furniture and electricals… everything must go!'

Or… someone was in there…

He slowly reached down for the gun. Secretly thanking McNaulty of McNaulty and Palmers for showing him how to load the magazine so he didn't have to now... 'there's no need… I know-' '-that's what everyone says-' '-no, I really _do_ know-' ''just be patient, coz there's a little trick here.' _'I_ _know.'_

His head was thumping badly now. And his back was hurting like hell. He really didn't need this. The doctor had advised against anything strenuous. Plenty of rest. And here he was… slowly edging his way… into his own damn hall… both hands on the firearm… wondering if his dud hand would be ok… and if anyone was here… aware that they would be ready for him… would have heard the door… and he, in turn, hadn't heard any noises from the back or from any of the windows… so they were still here...

A stairway and five doors led off from the hall… and any one of them could be concealing someone ready to knock the gun out of his hand...

Do this. Do this now and quickly.

He took a deep breath.

Systematic. Kicked against door one. A bedroom. Swung the gun round. Scanning. All clear. Out. Kicking door two. Second bedroom. The one he's using for an office. Papers everywhere. Normal then. And laptop still in place. Out and turning quickly to the third door. Bathroom. Clear. Arm aching now with tension but this was good… this felt really good… he hadn't forgotten anything. Living room. Clear. Kitchen clear. Easing slowly through the kitchen, back to the cabinets, peering through the glass door to the back porch. No one had left that way. The bolt was still pulled through and intact. Returning to the stairs. There or nowhere. Deftly. Quietly padding on the steps, up to bedroom three. His own. Empty. Already breathing more evenly though his head was still pounding in rhythm to a heart beat that was way too fast… and not hardly bothering to take precautions, now, he finally checked out its ensuite...

Nothing… hell… he really _had_ forgotten to lock the front door… so damned hung over…

He slumped down heavily on the unmade bed, resting his wrists on his knees, letting the gun hang limply from his one good hand… looking down at the floor… where there was an empty bottle on its side against the baseboard…

If he hadn't been drinking the other night, he'd still have his store… he's sure of that…

What's happened to him? What's happened?...

He stood suddenly and holding the gun with both hands, he yelled, aimed and fired…

-oAo-

AR. I.

"McKay."

"Caldwell."

And that was good. To Rodney, that felt like they were equals. An opinion that he was sure that the Colonel had never held of Rodney. Rodney was non military and that usually put him way down the MRE chain.

And there was enough in Caldwell's tone too, to suggest the solemnity, the momentousness of the occasion.

"Daedalus here. ETA ten minutes. Permission to land on the South Pier?" Of course, Rodney didn't need to be told it was the Daedalus. Neither did Caldwell need permission to land but this was the routine, the formality, the ritual that Caldwell had gone through with all of Atlantis' commanders. Weir. Carter. Woolsey. And Sheppard, if none of the above were available. All controlled and logical. B following A. C following B. Military precision that Rodney quite liked.

And now it was Rodney's turn... for the final and… his only time…

"No."

No. That's not what he should have said. He should have said: 'Yes. You're all clear.' That was the regular, normal reply. Said umpteen times before. Never had anyone actually said no. And Rodney hadn't planned to either.

He reeled round. He didn't even know Ronon was in the Control Room.

But there he was. Three metres away. Standing. Arms folded. Defiant.

And Lorne, who'd been signing something for one of his marines, looked up, startled too.

"What?" was all Rodney managed to splutter out before Caldwell was on the comms system again.

"You wouldn't mind repeating that, McKay? Might have been some static there…"

"No. You do not have permission," repeated Ronon, leaning forward slightly, as if talking into an actual mike, as if that might help with Caldwell's hearing.

"Come again, McKay? That wasn't you? What exactly is going on at your end?"

"Ronon!" hissed Rodney. And then realised that Caldwell needed an answer. "Can you delay?... Slight hitch… needs sorting… urgently… back with you… five minutes… soon… hope…" Hoping he hadn't sounded too desperate, slamming the comms button shut.

Everyone was staring at Rodney and Ronon. This was unprecedented. Unheard of. You just _don't_ deny the Daedalus permission to land.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Was the first thing that came to Rodney's mind, and then, "I thought you said you didn't have a plan?" He was even feeling a little miffed that, if Ronon had a plan, he obviously hadn't let Rodney in on it.

"I didn't. I do now. They're not landing." Ronon. Still with his arms folded. Still with that over-my-dead-body-look.

And Lorne had his hands on his hips and was shaking his head, with his this-is-all-going-to-end-in-tears-and-the-Major-mug-will-have-to-sort-it-all-out-again-look.

Others were still staring, and, Rodney conscious of that, strode over to Ronon, and pulled Ronon to one side… if that was at all possible… though Rodney hated the physicality of it… the bare arm… and couldn't't believe he was so bold… but he had to do _something_… and Ronon was taking it calmly and wasn't offended… and allowed himself to be led… so that was ok then… because Rodney had just got to drum some sense into him…

"And this will achieve what exactly?" he scream-whispered at the taller man, who obliged and lowered his head to reply to Rodney.

"He needs to land, right? Fourteen days here. There's always something that needs doing… fixing. R and R. Well, we're not letting him… not until he meets our demands, until he listens to us… I mean, _really_ listens to us."

"We? We? _Our_ demands?" said Rodney, trying to control the squawking in his voice but failing miserably.

Lorne was edging in on the conversation. "Ronon, you don't know what you're doing…"

"They're hailing us again," pointed out Chuck.

Well, Caldwell's idea of five minutes was pretty damn short.

"Tell him to wait!" Ok, that was snappy but Rodney still had World War Two and a Half to avoid… or at least talk Ronon out of doing something stupid…

Lorne tried to do it for him. "How you going to stop him?" And perhaps that's why Lorne had come closer… thinking Ronon might need stopping from doing said… stopping. "How you going to stop him, if he insists on landing? You haven't thought this through. This is… ransom… blackmail… It's using innocent people as hostages. There are those on both Daedalus and here who are going to get caught up in any fallout. And my men. You're asking them to disobey orders. To take part in what amounts to... mutiny? I don't think I can allow that… Let him land and we'll just ask Caldwell to take a look at that tape." Because Lorne knew about that now. Because it was common knowledge now. Because word had got round Atlantis like a Californian wild fire.

"What he said…" said Rodney, pointing at Lorne. Grateful that Lorne had taken charge of this. As there's something in Lorne that's like Sheppard. He could almost imagine him saying Chewie somewhere in his spiel.

"No. Other way round," and Ronon was not going to budge on this… Rodney could see it in his face. "Caldwell looks at the tape. Says he'll do something. And then he gets to land…"

Lorne sighed. "Fair enough." Because it was easier to agree than forcibly remove Ronon from the Control Room… and yes it might come to that… and he nodded to Chuck to open up the comms link their end.

"McKay, what is this?" asked Caldwell. Of course, by now he must be thinking Wraith or genii invasion and must be getting trigger happy fingers. This was _so_ starting to get out of hand.

"Just a situation… that needed attending to," assured Rodney, in what he knew was a voice one octave higher than it should have been.

"That you guys are gonna let me in on…?" No one explained. "In your own good time… look, you don't need me to tell you we've just done another long trip and everyone was looking forward to some R & R before we have to load up and head on back… so… please… and you'll notice that I said please this time round?… _Please_ can we land?" And he really sounded bushed, tired.

Rodney plunged in. "It's about Colonel Sheppard…"

"Sheppard? Yes. That was regrettable. But what's that got to do with our landing on the South Pier?"

"We've recently received information that his death was no accident." And this was hurting Rodney. To talk like this. Facts over the comms system. And he also had to be careful… not to mention Trust… in case, there were members overhearing this, or even, in case, Caldwell had somehow reverted back again. And suddenly Rodney realised that perhaps he ought to have someone sitting in the Chair... because that _might_ be a possibility and this might turn into something of a shooting match… but no… he didn't want to be the one to instigate this… but he glanced at Lorne… Lorne has the ATA gene… if things went nasty, Lorne could high tail it up there soon enough… God knows Sheppard had done it enough times… no… it wasn't going to come to that… firing on their own people… they just couldn't do that…

"Oh… Kavanagh's been talking to you, huh?" And now Caldwell sounded bored as well as tired.

Everyone in the Control Room looked at one another surprised…

"You know?" asked Rodney.

"It's all Kavanagh kept screaming about before they carted him off to a mental institution… advanced state of paranoia and goodness knows what psychosis - most I hadn't ever heard of… From everything I've been told, the man was clearly out of his mind. If he hadn't been such a pain in the backside, you'd nearly pity him."

Rodney glanced at the big guy for his reaction and Ronon was shaking his head. "It's not true… it's not true… they got to him…"

Right… so Rodney had got to push this further.

"He left us some video… and it's pretty damning…"

"Kavanagh was a scientist, so I could well believe he could produce something to convince you… and anyhow… like I said... what's this got to do with you not letting us land?"

"We'd… er… like you to see the video first…" and he trailed off...

"Make up your own mind, sir," put in Lorne, coming to his aid.

"Lorne is that you? You mean to tell me... that we can't land until I do? I'm surprised you're in on this... this little charade… you could get in some real serious trouble…"

"We're at a loss what to do for the best, sir. Kavanagh mentioned Trust being involved and quite honestly that's not something I can readily overlook. At the same time, I can't exactly go against Stargate Command with guns blazing unless this can be sorted out by some other means. "

"Just accept my word, Major, that Kavanagh had no idea what he was saying. Drop this… I'm going to call it blackmail because that is exactly what it is… now… we're entering orbit and I do intend to make a landing with or without your permission and assume command of Atlantis as per my orders…"

Both Lorne and Rodney glanced at Ronon. But Ronon was saying, "there's your proof, he's in on it… What are you going to do, Rodney?"

"What… am I going to do?" Rodney echoes. And Rodney's dumbfounded. What _is_ he going to do? Perhaps they had got it all so horribly wrong… had got caught up in the whole missing Sheppard thing and were quite eager to grasp at straws… to do anything, to believe anything that presented itself to clear Sheppard… but that video… and he sees the scene… he's haunted by it now… standing in the Control Room surrounded by all these people… as if he's in that cell… five successive shots… his friend dying… the video couldn't be fake… just couldn't be…

Ronon was standing in front of him, taking him hard by the shoulders, trying to make him see reason… but was this reason simply Ronon's point of view?… Was Ronon blinkered by the truth too? Because of grief. Because of the horror of watching the tape?

"You let him land… we'll have no chance to fight this! If he's Trust, we'll have no chance. If he's been hoodwinked by them even, we'll have no chance! We'll all be dead tomorrow… Raise the shield, McKay. Keep him out!"

"Yes…" agreed Rodney weakly. He was sure that Ronon was right… but... they could all be dead tomorrow if he _refused_ to allow the Daedalus to land. It was all feeling just too extreme.

And then Lorne pulled him in another direction, whispering so Caldwell couldn't hear. "You're not actually going to do that, McKay? I can't disobey orders… not just like that."

"If Trust are involved, you have no choice. It _is_ your duty as a soldier to fight these guys?" put in Ronon and then spoke to the Colonel. "Just… just take a look at the video, Caldwell."

"When I land, if I have time, I'll take a look if that'll keep you all happy."

And Rodney looked at Ronon. As if to say… see… see… the man can be reasonable…

"No. You look at it now." And the voice was so cold, so full of venom it was nearly unrecognizable.

"Teyla?" asked a puzzled Caldwell.

"Where is she?! Where is she?!" shrieked Rodney suddenly, because he so did not need Teyla interferring too. He was at a keyboard instantly… how did she manage to link into the comms system? Though he knew that in the past five years she had slowly picked these things up.

Chuck was there before him. "Chair Room," he said gravely.

"Teyla… shut down… we'll get this sorted," said Lorne. And he turned to Chuck. "Shut her down! Shut her down, can't you?" And Chuck was shaking his head, unable to understand why he couldn't.

"Colonel Caldwell is not to land until he looks at the tape," continued Teyla unchecked. "Unless… he did not respect the friendship that my husband offered to him?... It was all so meaningless? Unless he has come to believe that John was not a man of honour and integrity?... If he knew my husband as he claims he did under the terms of friendship, he should surely know that he would only have been guided by these principles… Has he never questioned why my husband did those things he stood accused of, unless it was both justified and carried out with the intention of doing good for others?... He was no criminal, Colonel Caldwell… Do not continue to insult us by insisting he was… He died in a cell condemned as one, whether or not his death was accidental, makes little difference. You will not land until you have looked at the tape… it is all that we ask… that you demonstrate good faith… If you do not, can we be blamed for the assumption that you cannot be trusted?"

"Oh, come on! This is getting ridiculous!" Caldwell was bored before… now he'd passed on to... irritated. "Teyla. With all due respect at your recent loss, this is all getting a little melodramatic, isn't it? And if we go ahead and try and land, McKay is going to raise the shield? Indefinitely? You know how much power that will take? And… where's Lorne? He's willing to go along with this? All the military? It's disobeying orders big time."

"Some of us aren't military," pointed out Ronon.

"Yes, but Atlantis, is now under my jurisdiction and that makes it military and that makes it so everyone has to abide by military regulations. Everyone. Or accept the consequences if they break them. Are you certain that you speak for every individual on Atlantis? Are you certain you speak for them all?"

"You could just turn round and go home?" suggested Rodney feebly. And that would avoid the so-called consequences too. No. He knew that Caldwell was going to call his bluff. And he knew that when his bluff was called… well, Rodney could do nothing… he was powerless… he couldn't, actually, physically, prevent the Daedalus landing… not forever…

"I've had enough of this! We're landing. Over and out."

He couldn't see Caldwell. The initial request to land should have been so mundane and over in sixty seconds that visuals had never been switched on.

But he imagined Caldwell giving a disgusted nod to a tech to shut the comms system down.

Caldwell had done talking.

But the comms system didn't shut down. No familiar little click that signified that everything had gone dead.

And before Rodney had a chance to register that fact… in that very instant…

He flinched.

A natural reflex to danger. So Carson had said once.

He ducked even.

But the danger wasn't here in the Control Room.

An explosion, however.

The danger was on the Daedalus.

Unmistakable. Loud and clear.

"Caldwell!" he heard Lorne shouting. "Caldwell, come in! Caldwell, do you read?"

Amelia yelled out the stats that Caldwell wasn't giving them. "They've taken a hit mid beam! Taken out power… down by 60 per cent."

Another blast. Followed by another. "Weapons gone. Power down to 30 per cent. Veering off course… its critical… at entry point into the atmosphere… if they don't right themselves soon…"

He knew all that. He had all that information on his own screen. "Who? Who's attacking them?" It was sorta of rhetorical. And Chuck shook his head. There was no sign of anyone else out there.

Rodney tried Caldwell again. Loads of interference. But they could hear everything on the bridge. They must have had auxiliary systems on line now. Lieut. Marks was reading off warnings... parts of Daedalus out of action… casualties… it was dire… Caldwell coughing in the smoke.

"Caldwell?!"

Caldwell still coughing "Are you_ crazy_, McKay?!"

"What?!"

"Hitting us with drones!"

"Wha-at?! It wasn't us!"

But Chuck was nodding. And Rodney glanced at another screen. As did Ronon.

Teyla was sitting in the Chair.

This can't be. This can't be.

"I'm on it," said Ronon and he sprinted off. To stop her... the Chair... whatever. Though it was too late. Much, much too late. Everything was happening so fast.

"It must have been a malfunction. Believe us!"

"I'm... not going... to argue the point now!"

"Christ, Caldwell - beam your people down!"

"Take… up on that offer… but… doubt…" And his voice crackled to nothing…

Twenty. Twenty of Daedalus' crew standing in the Gate Room… before the fireball totally engulfed the Daedalus, before the Comms system really did go dead…

-oAo-


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Alternative Reality II.

There's no mistaking that face. The glasses. The wispy hair. It really is Radek.

But this is a hardware store in a small coastal town. John's looking for paint and stuff to repair the baseboard in his bedroom. Though he's not a fixer-upper. He just thinks his landlord might be kinda cross with the hole that's appeared in the wall that looks suspiciously like someone's been using it for target practice...

He does a double take. It definitely is Radek. Where you just wouldn't expect Radek to be. He remembers being told that Radek might settle somewhere on the west coast… but here?

He rushes on over to that aisle. Actually feeling glad, pleased to see the little guy. Though they'd never been that close. Never been best buddies…

"Ra-" Checks himself. Because if they've changed John's name, then chances are that they've changed Radek's too.

Radek turns startled. "Col-" And stops also. And the woman he's with, just as short, turns round curiously.

"It's John Finley?" John explains, as if jogging the man's memory.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, it is." And Radek, comprehending, plays along with it. "And its Radek Jaworski… in case _you've_ forgotten," and he laughs, nervously looking all around him. "It's like the _Polish_ javelin thrower, you know? But I'm of Czech origin. There are people who often seem to confuse the two, along with Hungarian, Romanian, Slovakian-"

"-Radek! The gentleman gets the idea!" Nudges the lady smiling.

But judging from his expression and his Czech expletives that he mutters, Radek is still offended by the oversight.

"So…" And suddenly John hasn't a clue what to say next… "What you doing here?" Not exactly the most original of questions, considering where they are...

"The same as you?" Radek replies, looking down at the paint can and other packages held in John's arms.

"We're here to get ideas, to choose paint colours… " says the little woman enthusiastically, waiting, expecting to be introduced.

"Oh shush! He doesn't want to know that," says Radek, and then deciding different in the same second, explains proudly, "for our new home. And this is to be my new wife, my fiancée, Ruthie Miles." And he looks at her fondly… and gives her a little hug… and she pushes him away playfully… but it is the same way he used to look at some new technology on Atlantis. "Dr. Ruthie Miles. This is… an old colleague of mine. Remember that I said I worked for the military once?"

"Fiancee?" And John couldn't explain it… but he felt… a pang of jealousy?… not because Radek was getting married… that was actually surprising… but… because… Radek was obviously getting on with life…

"Well, I guess… congratulations are in order. I'd shake hands but…" and they all laugh at the stuff he's carrying.

Though John catches Radek's Ruthie glancing at his hand. Turning away quickly. He's used to it now. That's what everyone does…

"We met at the University… we both hold posts there." Radek seems nearly apologetic. Like… he knows that… he expects that… well, John, should have… perhaps he has?... but he's not saying… John should have found someone long, long before Radek. It would have been expected.

"And you? How is life treating you?" says Radek lightly, like its not important, like he thinks life must be treating John Sheppard very well… because up to the time that Atlantis disappeared off the radar, John Sheppard lived a charmed sort of life… and you'd expect life to still treat John well… the straight line with no surprises… but unless Radek is a fool, he can see that it's not treating John well… because John's not shaven… because… and John glances down… and yeah… that take-out stain is still there on his tee shirt. Radek is no a fool and never has been. And John reddens.

"Fine." He swallows hard. And it's difficult to keep his smile plastered there. "I'm… fine. Yeah."

He's fixing a broken baseboard that he took a gun to, smashing a bottle that he'd gotten drunk out of. And his store has just gone up in smoke and he couldn't prevent it because he was drinking... he's fine…

And Radek, for a moment, for a split second, gives him a searching look. Through those thick lensed glasses of his. He's not asked about John's injuries. He's not pushed about John's career or apparent lack of it. It seems he doesn't want to talk about these things in front of his wife. Perhaps it is difficult for Radek to forget Atlantis too. But Radek always knew when to be tactful. He'd had a whole load of Rodney to counterbalance.

"Look, when we're settled in, you must come and visit," chirps in the little woman. And she's good. She's willing to overlook what must be negative signs from one of Radek's friends. But perhaps she's used to Radek's eccentricities by now that she expects his friends to share them. Perhaps that what comes of mixing with mad scientists. She would have taken to Rodney like a house on fire. John is sure of that. "Give him one of your cards, Radek," she encourages.

And Radek fishes around in his jacket pocket and the jacket's making him look more like a crazy professor than he actually is… for starters… it's over 80 degrees outside and no one is wearing a jacket. He produces a card, offering it over and since John's hands are full, he places it on top of the paint can. "She made me have them printed. She organises me all the time," he says conspiratorially, teasing.

"Oh, and like you don't need it, Radek Jaworski!" And she gives him a fond punch on the arm.

"Ow! That hurts!" pretends Radek, beaming.

"Well, I'd better let you get on…" because all this domesticity is getting plain uncomfortable. Because it is so wrong, so out of place to see Radek here… John is remembering the little guy in Rodney's lab... he is seeing Radek at work fixing a Jumper that he was always so good at… he is seeing Radek arging with Rodney in the Control Room… and the last time he saw Radek was in the Control Room… being pushed out by Rodney… pushed to safety through the Gate… the last time he saw Rodney… in the Control Room… alone…

"And… I cannot have your address and phone number also? We could perhaps meet and talk over old times?" And Radek is serious again. And that undercurrent is there. That concern that perhaps not everything is ok with John.

"Yeah… sorry…" But John's hands are full, of course. So Radek takes out another of his cards and writes the address John gives him on the back.

"Any time? To call or… call by?" And he means to come. Without Ruthie. Without the need to take precautions about talking about their past.

"Yeah. I'm not busy." Though... he'd rather Radek didn't come at all.

-oAo-

AR. I.

Atlantis has never been so quiet.

Though Rodney guesses that it must have been so when the Lanteans left the city to sleep beneath the sea.

A slight humming. Whirring of the computers.

That's all.

No one speaks. Though most stare, wide eyed. Unable to believe what they've just been witness to. Some cover their faces with their hands. Two female technicians begin to cry down on the Gate Room floor. Breaking that awful silence.

A sort of collective shock. Though he can't put it into words. Being in a state of shock himself.

"Lorne?" Is all he can say. And, with knees suddenly going weak and trembling starting, he slumps down on one of the Control Room chairs. If it's the onset of a hypoglycemic attack, he doesn't care. Horror chokes him. Horror paralyses him. The Daedalus. There were people he _knew _on the Daedalus. Ok. So he couldn't remember all of their names. But he'd worked with them. Norvak? Had Norvak been on board? Marks had. Caldwell… They'd been a part of Rodney's life. And his, a part of theirs.

First Sheppard and Woolsey. Now this. And how much of 'this' had Rodney been responsible for? How much of 'this' could he have prevented?

The Daedalus hadn't been destroyed by Wraith but by drones fired from Atlantis.

And Lorne just shakes his head. And then Lorne comes to his senses and takes charge. And Rodney gratefully lets him. Perhaps Rodney should resign if this sort of thing happens under his Command? He can't remember anyone doing anything quite on this scale during the whole Stargate programme. Blowing up half a solar system on the Arcturus Project, seems to shrink to insignificance by comparison. And if precedents needed to be set, why is it always Rodney? And why could he never be the first to... say, make a ZPM?

"Damage report?!" snaps Lorne.

And its Amelia's turn to simply shake her head. There really is nothing left of the Daedalus.

And then Lorne taps his earpiece. "Dr. Keller? We have injured down here. Could do with some assistance, pretty damn quick!" And though, in Rodney's opinion, a couple do seem poorly, covered in blood and all that, it looks like the survivors of the Daedalus have mostly managed to escape with only cuts and bruises.

And it might be selfish, but, Rodney, himself, could do with seeing Jenny, his wife, right now.

"Dr. McKay? Are you ok?" asks Lorne next.

And no he's not. "Yes," he manages. And flaps a hand to tell Lorne to just get on with things… whatever things he has to do… whatever it is a military commander has to do in these circumstances… he can't imagine what they could be… It's a precedent… What is there to do?... They've destroyed the Daedalus… Does that mean they'd won a battle?... The problem of Sheppard still exists… Won a battle at too heavy a cost… no where near won a war… There really is nothing to do… except to arrange another memorial service… except to notify Earth… Hell, they were in deep trouble… How were they going to explain this?...

And the more he thinks, the more he thinks that he needs Jenny… He's feeling weaker and fainter and more shakier and more like the room is going to slip away from him… he's sure he needs something to eat… but can't pick up the energy to ask anyone to fetch him something… as if they'd care… he's been a pretty useless commander to date…

It's the shock… he knows it's shock… how pathetic can you get?

And then there are other voices that cut into his stunned consciousness.

Chuck still has the video link to the Chair Room switched on.

"Teyla?" Ronon has reached the Chair Room. The screen is nearly a blur as Rodney tries to focus in. Teyla is still sitting in the Chair. And he remembers… and his mind starts to race despite how weak he'd feeling… he can never stop that… thought processes… it's impossible… it's impossible for Teyla to operate the Chair… but she's expecting Sheppard's daughter… Could she use the unborn child?… Like she had with Tagan when she'd assumed control of that Wraith queen once. But if she could… Teyla… gentle Teyla… would never do such a thing… a pregnant mother is like sanctity, holiness all wrapped up in pink glowing ribbons… she could never kill two hundred people… Could she?...

"Teyla? Teyla, what are you doing?" asks Ronon horrified. Ronon believes it. Ronon believes that Teyla could do this.

That she is so twisted with hatred now…

What's happened to them all? What's happened?

"Dr. McKay?" asks the up-close face of Lorne that floats in a whizzy sort of floaty mistiness.

"Huh?" and the room blackens and he falls forward into even more black as Lorne catches him.

-oAo-

AR. II.

John pushes the door open with his foot.

Remembered to lock it this time, John?

And carries his fixer-upper stuff through to the back porch, bypassing three days of unopened mail laying on the four week old dust on the hall table, bypassing a living room with scattered empty take outs cartons, DVD cases, magazines and where popcorn nuggets and goodness knows what else, scrunch underfoot, through to a kitchen with an overflowing bin, home to a galaxy of flies and stacks of unwashed coffee cups on the drainer, ending up in the porch with a washing machine draped with a pile of dirty laundry that was lucky enough to have made it that far…

The air in the house is hot, stifling and stagnant. Perhaps he should throw open a window. Perhaps he should even bother to _open_ the curtains or blinds. Or not.

He's noticed that next door haven't opened their curtains either. A new trend in interior fashion? Well, that's easy enough to follow… perhaps they _have_ gone away… funny though… why they didn't say?

He's in the kitchen and opens the fridge. Pulling out a bottle. Pulling out its stopper. He's had half for breakfast. Wine. He figures he can allow himself that. It's cheaper for one thing. Helps the local economy, sure. And helps him sleep. Lots of pluses then. And yeah… it's only eleven in the morning and he already feels like a nap, so its working…

Why _are_ there so many goddamned flies?

He _can_ make the effort to reach for some spray and douses the room- and himself- in the stuff, and that sends him coughing and running to the living room to escape the fumes, shutting the door quickly behind him.

When his eyes stop watering, and he sees the living room again, he remembers that he might get a visit from Radek… He's thinking that it's time to turn over a new leaf… He really will do it this time… That's what the trip to the hardware store was all about, hey, John? A new leaf. But that's what he says everyday…

He takes a drink straight from the bottle held in one hand… because he's all for labour saving and doesn't want to wash up glasses… and pulls back the curtains with the other, blinded instantly by the sunshine burning in from the outside. A whole heap of flies take offence by this too and then this room is soon buzzing like the kitchen. He goes straight back for the spray and a garbage bag. So now he has to put down the bottle. Not a bad thing probably...

An hour later, all the rubbish is cleared, the flies are in their final death throes if they've managed to survive some pretty ruthless vacuum pushing, everything is neatly stacked and most surfaces can now see some sort of reflection.

He slumps down on the sofa with a thrown together ham sandwich, a newly opened bottle and the unopened mail.

More than half is going to join the take-out trays in the trash. A couple are utility bills… for the store… but he'll still have to pay them… The insurance company is confirming conversations on phones… This is all such crap… He lays his head back and closes his eyes… What the hell has he done to deserve this hell?... He'd rather be fighting Wraith... No… Yeah, he'd rather be fighting Wraith…

_'Go and live,' said McKay._ This isn't living. He knows that. Is he letting Rodney down? What did Rodney expect him to do? _What did Rodney expect_ _him to do?_

A death wish, Sheppard? That's what Rodney used to say… and now Rodney's laid a life wish on him… but this is… this is… a living death… the life of John Finley…

This has happened before... when the Lanteans had wanted their ball back... when they'd turned up from goodness knows where and demanded the return of Atlantis... and the Expedition had been asked to leave... Then it had been Elizabeth who'd gone to pieces. John had made model aeroplanes...

He can't seem to do anything without being reminded of Atlantis…

He opens his eyes and takes a drink… a toast… though, yeah… it works better with the sea…_ 'the good old days...'_

Hell, he misses them… he misses them all… and he shouldn't be like this… everyday a new leaf… everyday he tells himself to snap out of it… he's a soldier… he's been through worse… he's sure he has… everyday he tells himself he is stronger than this… everyday he tells himself… but he misses it all so much… and it's like a knife twisting inside… he misses them all so much… there's nothing he can do to stop this… nothing he can do… a Colonel once… he'd take on anything… he'd got commendations to prove that… but he can't stop this hurt… he's powerless… he can't stop his own damned pain…

Teyla wouldn't let him get like this… and he remembers… and that's how it is… all the time… one little thing and he's plagued with all these memories… how he and Ronon had had too much to drink once… Ronon had said it was his birthday but sometimes it seemed like Ronon had a birthday every month…

'Boys, you've had quite enough! Especially you, Colonel Sheppard. I think, perhaps, you are not used to the strength of Athosian wine.'

'I'm fine.' And he'd stood to prove it, had swayed and fallen back on one of the bean bags in Ronon's room. There had been an exploding pop and polystyrene snow filled the room. And John smiles now at the memory of a snow ball fight when the 'snow' runs away from you and you're blind drunk and giggling hysterically… and Teyla's screaming at the mess.

'Take that, Ronon Dex!'

'Have your own back, Sheppard, and more some!'

At least… at least… he remembered that after… the whole idea now… is to try and forget…

He sighs and reaches for another envelope and he's puzzled. This is the one delivered by hand when he was in hospital. A single sheet… folded in four… a computer printout… no address… no date…

_'I know of your pain, John Finley. Remember, I, too, have lost brethren._

_I know you will honour them and hold their memory sacred in your heart._

_I know of the grief this causes you._

_Fight this, John Finley._

_Fight this, John Finley, for it is your toughest battle yet._

_The warrior that stands strong in the face of adversity has little need of a name other than that of warrior._

_T.'_

He freezes.

Todd…

Todd was here?... No. Cheyenne Mountain. Helping out. Somehow got it posted to him. Censored no doubt… that's why he says John Finley.

But John hates this. He hates it that Lennox, or someone in his department has probably seen this…

Todd…

And he sees the irony… he gave Todd his name… and John has also been given a new name… a new identity… but it had made little difference to Todd to be given a stranger's name… hell, even Todd was a better man… better Wraith… whatever… than John…

Todd knows… and John's not sure… not sure about sympathy… understanding from a Wraith… but its there… its offered… and its all there is…

Todd… Radek… rags… tatters… ruins… all that's left of his former life…

But he wishes that they'd all go and leave him… all the memories… all the nightmares would just go and leave him alone…

AR. I.

"What? You're treating Teyla as a criminal now?! Is that it?!" He watches as Lorne fires up the laptop to show him the recording. It had been an interrogation. That's what it amounted to. Of an expectant mother. "I can't believe you could be so… so IOA like… not after everything we've been through!"

Once the IOA had been the byword for bureaucracy, for red tape. It would seem that now it had come to represent anything from witch hunting, false accusations, falsifying evidence, murder… and added to that torture of pregnant women, beating them with baseball bats…

"Hold your horses there, McKay, I did this for your benefit as much as anyone's," defended the infinitely patient Lorne, quietly, "you were out cold remember? And we needed some answers. _And_…" he pauses, because he's not accustomed to saying how he feels to the others, "I wasn't happy with this either… but Dr Keller okayed this first… and Teyla agreed. I felt something needed getting down in writing, so to speak. I didn't believe Teyla could have done this, no more than you. She needed the opportunity to say her piece. In case, well, in case, someday, someone might actually be interested enough to want to know."

They're in Woolsey's office, and Rodney still can't bring himself to accept that it's actually _his _office now. He doesn't deserve it to be _his _office. Didn't he just faint hours ago while in command? That was not manfully passing out. That was the real McCoy fainting… And didn't he just allow a starship to get blown into the next dimension? And Lorne… well, he seemed to be doing all the 'commanding' round here now, anyway. It should be Lorne's office.

"Yeah, you're right, Major," and Rodney sighs with the wave of a hand, sitting limply in Woolsey's chair. It's empty and closest so he might as well. Jenny has made him all better again with her magical, mystical powers. He could never call her a witch doctor like he'd frequently called Carson in the past, now, could he? But though she's coaxed him… (no… she'd bribed him with double choc muffins) and though he decided it really was time to get up on two legs again so he can allow her to attend to other patients… (no… she'd laid two hands firmly on the mattress beneath his butt and tipped him out of bed), he still feels weak and rather woozey.

"What's going to happen to us now?" he asks wearily. And it's a question that keeps going through his head like some complicated algebra that just refuses to reach a logical conclusion. It's like that sometimes. Infinite possibilities.

"I don't know, McKay. I really don't know…" And obviously then, Lorne's been thinking the same question. "All I know is we're in deep sh- trouble…"

"Wanted men, huh?"

"And we're not going to be able to easily talk our way out of this… even if someone is prepared to listen…"

"They'll send the Apollo, you think?"

"A strong possibility," Lorne considers. And they'll be shooting first and asking questions second. That was a strong possibility too.

"And then we're back where we started…"

"The difference being… instead of… or rather, as well as, we're trying to clear _our_ name and not just the Colonel's."

And more people are dead now...

"Hence the recording?"

"Yeah… hence the recording," agrees Lorne, nodding his head. "We're on minimal damage control here. When we contact Earth, I intend to send this video. With your permission, of course." Lorne really was thinking of everything. Rodney really ought to hand him those reins of command right that very moment.

"Teyla… denies it, of course… It was a malfunction? Bad timing, though…"

"No… not exactly a malfunction… and Dr. Zelenka has checked and confirmed that… You'll see..." And Lorne turns the lap top round for Rodney to watch. And Rodney's heart misses a beat… because if it wasn't a malfunction… then it means… that Teyla did actually do this…

'You… want to tell me what happened in there?' Lorne's voice is gentle. His face earnest and full of concern. And Rodney is surprised. He didn't think Lorne, well, Lorne is a soldier and far be it for Rodney to be guilty of people-categorising, but he really wasn't expecting that… but... thinking back to that time when Lorne 'lost' Teyla to Michael, Rodney really shouldn't be _that _surprised because then Lorne was pretty cut up…

They're in Teyla's quarters. JJ is heard cooing in the crib nearby and making baby squishing noises with his mouth as he chews messily on a teething ring. Rodney guesses Tagan is taking a nap somewhere. And Ronon is sitting beside Teyla, holding her hand. Lorne is seated opposite.

So not exactly third degree then.

Though Teyla is clearly distressed. Not the calm cold self she'd displayed earlier in the Chair Room.

'In your own words,' prompts Lorne.

'I cannot explain it…' and she looks to Ronon for help, though Ronon can only offer sympathy and encouragement.

'Teyla,' he says simply.

But she seems to take comfort from his presence. She takes a deep breath. 'I… I have to go back… to the night before?…'

'That's ok.'

'I couldn't sleep. It… it has been very difficult for me to do so lately… even with meditation… I cannot seem to clear my head… I do not believe it is because I am expecting the child… simply thoughts of John. Memories of our good times together… as well as those anxious times… and then of… his passing away… I find that it helps to walk… it tires me out... and Jenny has provided me with a monitor so I am able to keep in contact with the boys... though I never go far.

But last night, not even that would work. Rodney had told me of that… video. He refused to let me see it… he said that it would be too distressing… but I found that my own mind was creating it's own images and those, I could not drive away.' She stops, shivering. And looks down at her lap as Ronon squeezes her hand tightly, to reassure her more. She smiles weakly in thanks.

'I was compelled to call Dr. Keller, to send a nurse to look after the children. She had said that this was permissible if I ever felt that… things were… 'too much' for me… and last night… I am ashamed to say… things were 'too much.' I think that I wandered the corridors of Atlantis all night… I scarcely knew where I was… thinking… thinking… thinking… going to places I am certain no one has ever been before… certainly, and thankfully, I met no one… and it seemed… and you are going to believe this is very foolish of me… it seemed like… I could hear voices… John's voice, in particular… always a murmuring of voices… voices of all the events that have ever occurred on Atlantis… much like the time when the whales spoke to us?... always echoes of voices… their origins in the very walls as I walked past… at times, if it were a happy event, then it was comforting… like John and Rodney playing with remote controlled cars… or it was disturbing, if it were Kolya or Michael… it was more than memory… it was not my memory… it was that of Atlantis… presenting me with the voices of ghosts… I am convinced of it… Atlantis speaking to me… by my side…

After many hours… I was unaware of the time… I had seen that the sun had already risen through windows as I passed… the aschatee were calling the dawn… but it did not register with me that the day had advanced to such a degree that the Daedalus had perhaps already arrived… after many hours then… I found myself in the Chair Room… the voices were strongest then… John's voice was strongest then… giving commands from the Chair… I could hear the responses from the Control Room… this was like a strange dream that I could not wake up from… and in it, somewhere, I was speaking to Caldwell… and in the next moment… I so longed to sit in the Chair… to feel John's presence… to share with him again… but you understand my reluctance to do so?...' And Teyla looked from Ronon to Lorne, her eyes moist and large with entreaty. 'This was the Chair of the Ancestors. As such, it is sacred to me. It is presumptuous of me to even consider that I am worthy to sit there. But although I regard it as an object of great beauty, it is also a killing machine. Sometimes it feels me with such repugnance. And I am carrying my daughter… I would not wish her to be in any way contaminated by association with it… but the pull to sit there was too strong for me… I could feel John… he was there… there… I could touch him again… be with him again… if only I were to sit in the Chair.'

She falls silent. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. And both Lorne and Ronon exchange glances… their concern for her and wondering whether she will continue.

'But you did Teyla… you did sit in the Chair… and you were able to fire drones… we're assuming that your daughter has the ATA gene… so you were able to fire the drones,' insists Lorne, in an attempt to persuade Teyla to carry on.

'I did not kill all those people.' She closes her eyes and visibly shudders. Struggling once more to resume. 'All my life... my whole life... I've always led my whole life with thought only of others... I could never kill unless there was good reason... I... I would never allow... my daughter to be in a position where I could use her this way… I am aware that I might have threatened the Daedalus but... it was never my intention to destroy it… All those people... ' and she falters again... 'all those people now dead because of me... They were all innocent victims caught up in this tragedy the same as I… It is difficult to live with this... a burden I must carry for the rest of my days… my conscience... I know I must be strong… but it is… difficult…'

'Tell us what happened in the Chair,' asks Ronon, hoarsely. So Rodney supposes that Teyla had already told him.

'In the Chair?' and she seems confused, probably still thinking about lives lost...

'Yes. Tell us what happened in the Chair,' encourages Ronon.

'The Chair... the Chair laid back and lit up blue. Which surprised and shocked me… I did not anticipate… so sudden… so strange… it was no longer me… the same... a similar experience as those times I have contacted the Wraith?-'

'-You became a Wraith?" asks an alarmed Lorne. So all those early fears of Teyla's Wraith gene being turned against them were well founded?

'No. No. I became _John.'_

Rodney felt his eyes widen. He'd not expected this in a million years.

'You were… possessed? By his ghost?' and Lorne in the video is equally shocked. Lorne in the office is sitting with a thoughtful, knowing look on his face. Nodding. Like he's saying: yeah, it _is_ difficult to believe this one… but this is Pegasus and nothing surprises anymore...

"Ghost?" asks Rodney back at him. "No. No." And he's flicking a hand into the air… and he stops in mid-thought so as not to miss the rest of what Teyla is saying...

'No. No. I became a part of him… of his life… but this is not possible is it?… as he is no longer with us… I do not understand it… but this is what I saw… Everything before me was thrown into blue light… And John used to say this is how he experienced sitting in the Chair… and how the blue light is threaded with tendrils, like veins, arteries… and John used to say… this was his nervous system as it interacts with the Chair… and I could see his hands… they were my hands… resting on the arms. I could even feel the coolness of the gel touching his skin… and I could feel his sense of danger… I could see what he considered the threat… I could see that image in the blue light… but it was not the Daedalus… it was another ship… its likeness I have never seen before… I could hear Rodney speaking… I could hear Mr Woolsey-'

'You heard Richard Woolsey? Are you sure?'

'Yes. I am certain… and then… as John… I began to fire drones… at what was a dark shadow in space… over and over again… it must have been at this point that I fired on the Daedalus… it was an accident… I did not know what I was doing… and it was never done with hatred... there was no hatred or malice ever... John was firing in self-defence... as too was I...'

Lorne in the video is silent. He's looking down at the ground, hesitant to put into words what he's thinking.

'You know… if we tell Earth this, they're not going to believe one word? Anyone can say that they didn't know what they were doing. And in the situation we're in, when we're trying to persuade them that they may have Trust at SGC and that Colonel Sheppard was murdered by them, they're gonna only see one thing, that you were after revenge.'

'It is the truth.'

'And this is Teyla that speaks it! This accounts for nothing with your people does it?' accuses Ronon.

'We can only but try with this. Teyla... would you be prepared to take a lie detector test?'

"You're going to get her to take a lie detector test?! What?! Are you evil?" screeches Rodney at Lorne in the office.

"It won't hurt her. Radek's rigging one up now. We have to do something. Otherwise… otherwise… you'll just have to… run and hide… You might have to do that even _with_ the test."

And it hasn't gone unnoticed… that Lorne keeps saying 'you.' Rodney knows that he's Commander, Acting… and he knows that Lorne is a model of self-effacement, and will always defer to senior rank… but Rodney feels uneasy about it all the same.

"What… what… do you mean… 'you'? You keep saying 'you.' Shouldn't you be saying 'we'?" He's hoping that Lorne will be shocked at the observation. Will tell him he's just being over sensitive and reading more into it than there actually is… that Lorne will promise never to do that again… will promise to use the collective 'we'… even better… offer to be Commander, Acting, and to use the singular 'I'.

"I've got to leave, Dr. McKay. I'm sorry. But my men and I have inadvertently got caught up in this… And it's like Caldwell said… we're still under orders from Earth… and those were to give up Atlantis and we have to abide by them. Perhaps by returning to Earth, we can get things sorted out. The Daedalus survivors need to be sent back anyway. And there are technicians and scientists and other guys who might want out too… who don't understand what's going on… who want, or played no part in any of this… You've got to give them the choice… It'd be mighty unfair not to do so… And that choice is… to either sit here with you, hope for the best, hope that the Trust haven't gotten a hold and that someone will listen to reason, hope that the Apollo won't come hooting for blood… or return, and still hope that the Trust haven't gotten a hold and someone will listen to reason. Though you might decide to do that too… you've got some deciding to do too…"

-oAo-


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Alternate Reality II.

Radek comes round that same afternoon and John is literally caught napping. He jumps up from his sleeping position on the sofa after hearing the bell, sending the mail sliding to the floor. He quickly scoops the papers up and stuffs everything into a drawer. And dumps the bottle with a clink against all the other bottles in the kitchen waste before answering the door.

Feeling guilty huh, John? And why is he so nervous? He's acting like a raw recruit before a sergeant's inspection.

"Radek?" He pretends surprise. "I thought… you know… next month… She lets you out on your own then?" He tries for a joke. And Radek shares the humour.

"This is a nice little place you have here," says Radek politely, because he can't possibly mean it.

"Want coffee?" John asks, after showing Radek into the living room. After noticing Radek's face fall for a split second before he quickly forces a smile back on. What had John missed? Damn… scores of flies again… he'd had the windows open to try and air the place… He grabs the fly killer once more and shuts the windows.

"I've had the windows open." A quick squirt. "The air con's broken." Another squirt. "I haven't got round to getting it fixed."

They both retreat to the kitchen hastily. "A coffee would be fine," says Radek, choking a little.

John starts preparing it. And Radek stands idly close by, at a loss what to do with himself, at a loss what to say.

_Hell. Why doesn't he just leave? Why did he even come?_

"I have cookies," says John desperately. Anything to break the awkwardness. Though his mind goes blank where he might have put them. "I think… that cupboard."

"I'll get them." And Radek seems relieved to have something to do. He finds them. Tut tuts. They're double wrapped. "These will not help the environment. Ruthie would ban me from having these," he smiles ruefully. And rips off the first wrapper, opening the bin. John has his back to him. He can sense the Czech freezing. And he knows why... But quite honestly, thinks John, the contents of his bin is none of Radek's damned business...

He turns abruptly with the coffee cups and places them on the table. He's going to make out he hasn't noticed. But Radek is still standing there with the wrapper in his hand… stupidly standing there… a mixture of shock and sympathy on his face…

John won't have it. He won't have it.

"Colonel-"

"-Hey, it's John now, you know!" He says half-joking. He's still going to bluff this out. But he's shaking like a leaf. This really is as bad as getting caught out by his sergeant...

"Colonel… I think… you have problems." And Radek indicates with his head towards the bin.

John pretends to misunderstand him. He's Czech. He doesn't always make himself clear. "That full already? I'll get it emptied later." And then lies… because he damn well knows what Radek is driving at. "Had some friends round last night… you know what it's like…" And he sits at the table, taking a sip at the coffee that he knows is way too hot… but he can hide that way… hide how he's feeling inside… just pretending the coffee isn't way too hot… but why should he have to excuse himself? It's his own freaking bin…

"I am sorry." And Radek eases down slowly in the chair opposite and places the cookie pack carefully on the table, seeming to have lost all appetite. He has the air of someone who has something to say but doesn't want to say it.

John looks at the pack. Nothing else. He won't meet Radek's eye. He's still trying to drink coffee that is way too hot. He's looking at the pack but not seeing it… he feels so tense he's going to explode. But he keeps his voice low and casual… he can deal with this… same as he's always dealt with everything life throws at him… but he's puzzled why Radek apologised… in that way… like he really is sorry… not because he's been nosy about the state of John's bin… but like he really is... sorry…

"Why?" But to ask the question is to invite Radek to say what he means by 'you have problems.' and John doesn't want to hear… he just doesn't want to hear…

"I am not Rodney."

And John feels able to smile at that and feels able to look up. Relieved almost. Is this all the little man is going to say? Something Czech and something cryptic. "No. You can say that again."

But Radek is serious and is choosing his words carefully. "Neither am I Ronon nor Teyla."

And John could laugh because Radek certainly isn't Teyla but John falls serious too and looks back down at the cookie pack. Both hands are tight around his cup. Which is still way too hot. But he needs something to grip... he's so tense... "No. No, you're not."

"They were your friends and I know that I was never as close as they… but I hope I can be considered one also… and as a friend, I should be able to be frank with you, no?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Anything…" But John can hardly speak.

"I am not blind… I can see what is happening here. Here, and in the hardware store."

"And… what is that exactly?" And that comes out cold... cold... perhaps that's how he can stop Radek... for he can guess what the Czech is about to say... And John continues to stare at that space around the cookie pack. And he frees a hand from his cup and allows a finger to absently trace a line across the grain in the wood of the table. He's waiting… for Radek to spell it out… but he knows... John knows what Radek is going to say...

"That you have a problem… that… you are… forgive me… I am sorry…" and then Radek blurts it out anyway, speaking now with a torrent of words. "You have a problem with the alcohol… and it would be understandable after everything that you have been going through… I understand… I understand." And Radek throws his hands into the air, which John can't help looking up at and noticing, and he's gesticulating like crazy and although he says he's not like Rodney, he's suddenly being every bit like Rodney… "I had an uncle once… he lost a wife… he was exactly the same… I understand… all my relatives drink, you know… drink too much… but it is special occasions… it is when the vodka comes out… it is marriages, births, funerals, you know? Once the horse and cart has to be sent for and six at a time were delivered home that way… but this uncle… you… you are like him…" And it's Radek's turn to look at the table. "And I am sorry… I did not make visits to you in hospital… I stayed away… I think perhaps, I, too, was pained too much by the events at Atlantis… I stayed away… when I should have been there as a friend… when you have lost friends… I owe it to Rodney… to remain your friend…" And he lifts up his glasses with one hand and wipes both eyes with the other. "I am here now… I am not Rodney… I am not Teyla or Ronon… but I must help you… I know my duty… to Rodney's memory..."

There is silence between the two of them. Which John manages to break with a sigh. Coz... how do you respond to that? "Well…" Is all that comes out eventually.

"You do not have to say anything… you can reprimand me… I will understand… I know my duty…" And Radek is shaking his head.

"Well… firstly, there is no drinking problem… I'm fine… I drink to help with sleep… that's all… to sleep..."

Radek leans forward pressing both forearms on the table and looks at him straight and earnest. And John has to look away to the fridge across the room. He can't meet that gaze. "Colonel… this is not true… I saw my uncle… and it broke my dear mother's heart for he was her brother… this was him… denial… all the time, denial… and all the time… the carrying of the shoulders… like so…" And Radek hunches up his shoulders to illustrate. "The look of… the look of… down on the luck? And then the time comes… when the luck _does,_ in fact, become down…"

"Radek… no… you've got it wrong… that's not me… you know me…"

"That is it… I do not know you… the man who sits before me is not the pilot of Jumpers… he is not the fighter of Wraith… he is not the defender of Pegasus… he is not the soldier who takes on Kolya… he is not the person who throws scientists across the chasm of space and accompanies them on dangerous space walks…"

"That's because… I'm not _that_ person… I'm John Finley, remember?" And he raises his cup and drinks now. Hiding again behind that action.

"But you asked me to… know you? To remember you? And that is Colonel Sheppard who is here, " and he taps his head, "and you have… changed. The strength has gone. The… the... dare I say this?... the _soul_… it is broken. There! I _have_ said it. I am not blind. I can see it. You are one that has the problem with the alcohol…"

"Radek… no…" And John is back to staring at the cookie pack...

"Yes. Yes. And the analysts will say it is because of grief… like my uncle…" And he's nodding his head energetically.

"Radek…" And John is shaking his.

And Radek falls silent… and then stands abruptly, scraping his chair back noisily on the floor… "You wish me to leave… I know…" and he goes to the door, embarrassed and confused… "I have been too presumptuous… I have said too much… I have driven round and round the block for an hour thinking: am I doing the right thing?… Trying to pick up courage… On Atlantis… I would never have dared say all this… you were Colonel… But I do this for Rodney too… our mutual friend… I am sure he would never let me abandon you…"

"Radek… don't… sit down… finish your coffee…"

The door chimes sound suddenly, so unexpected at that point that both men start and look towards the door. And John stands to answer it. Never any callers come. In one hour, there are two.

"I'll go now," volunteers Radek, awkwardly.

"It's ok… it's probably someone selling insurance…" Though he hopes not... Though, yeah, he'd really love Radek to leave… he doesn't need this… and he really doesn't know what else to say… what? Come clean? Admit it? And what does Radek think he can do exactly? That John can't do for himself anyway? But Radek is just trying to be a friend… and friends for John are a scarcity these days…

And damn… it's Scarlett and her Pooch. And two other guys… suited. Despite the hot weather. And when John opens the door, both are reaching for breast pockets to bring out ID. Revealing brief glimpses of holstered guns strapped beneath their jackets.

This shouldn't spook him but it does… but he's just spent the last quarter of an hour trying to play casual… it should come naturally now…

"Mr. Finley? Detectives Blakeman and Connors. Homicide. You know my collegues?" And each flash a badge at him… too close to possibly read… but John would have to be kinda dumb not to believe they were genuine with Scarlett and Pooch standing right behind them. "We can come in?" And Scarlett pulls a face. 'Sorry. It's nothing to do with us,' she's sorta saying.

"Well, I've got a visitor…" and John suddenly reckons that might not be a particularly smart thing to say, because, well, it sounds evasive, and he's no idea what these guys want… he might be incriminating himself… though how, he hasn't a clue… and he can't imagine for one instant that an excuse like that is ever going to get rid of them… they mean to come in… it's in their tone…

John glances back at his 'visitor', Radek, who is standing further back in the hall, pale and nervous as hell and ready to escape… crap, he and Radek have been through everything together and they're both cowering here because there's cops at the door?

"It's ok, Colonel…" and John bites his lip, because he's sure Radek's about to say Sheppard. "_Mr. Finley_… I will leave now…"

The cops look over John's shoulder, interested in the little guy. "Actually, it'd be better if you were to stay, Mr…?"

And Radek is so alarmed now that he stammers. "Ja... Jaworski… Radek Jaworski."

"So we can come in? We wouldn't want to worry the neighbours standing here." But they've probably done that already, coming mob handed to the door and parking two cars out on the road, one of which is a patrol car. John looks to one side… and sure enough curtains are twitching… though at the Spencers… their's are still drawn.

John opens the door wider to allow them in and half points to the living room. Flies are buzzing in the hall now that the door's been opened. He really ought to haul out his fly curtains.

"Flies? Got something buried under the floor boards?" quips Scarlett. John just pulls a face.

Scarlett and Pooch hang back. He and Radek are obviously supposed to follow the detectives in… and not make a sudden get away… John's feeling very uneasy about this now…

His small living room suddenly seems very overcrowded. Four guys standing on the circular mat in the middle. And now she's entered, Scarlett positions herself at the kitchen door. Pooch stands guard in the hallway. It's all well planned and co-ordinated. He hasn't been frisked or anything so it can't be that bad… but they're watching him very closely indeed.

He half-heartedly invites Blakeman and Connors to sit.

"Want coffee?" His offer to Radek earlier. It'd helped to break the ice then, but was about as much use as a tooth pick now…

"No thanks," says Blakeman, nice and polite, answering for all of them, and sitting down in one of the armchairs, flicking a fly away from his face. Connors sits in the other. And John finds himself praying that there isn't still a take out tray stuffed down the back that he might have missed earlier. Blakeman indicates with a hand that he wants John and Radek to sit on the sofa. Sandwiched in between the two detectives. Radek looks paler than ever and John guesses that Ruthie wouldn't like it very much if she saw the predicament her fiancé was in at the moment…

"So…" John says as he sits, "I'm in some sort of trouble?"

"You think you are?" smiles Blakeman wryly.

That was a trick question? To see if he'd act all guilty?

"It'd help if you'd tell me why you're here? Then perhaps I could answer."

"This was a quiet neighbourhood…" the detective peers through the window that overlooks the door and then turns back to speak directly to John, "until you arrived… now we seem to be experiencing something of a crime wave… arson, and now… three homicides in one night." John swallowed hard. So that was it? They'd come to pin those on him? "Colleagues of mine have been busy trying to nail down the extortion ring that burnt down your store." John hears Radek slight intake of breath beside him. This was all news to Radek, of course. If he'd thought that John was on the downhill slippery slope of alcoholism, then whatever must the scientist's brain be thinking of this little lot? "They were pretty certain they knew who was responsible and had been keeping tabs on them. However, last night, they were given the slip. Two hours later, all three suspects, turn up dead on some quarry road. Still in their vehicle. All shot through the head. Professionally done. They probably didn't even know what had hit them."

"_Ach ma!_" says Radek, almost inaudibly. And why doesn't he say the rest while he's at it? What have you gotten yourself into John? What have you gotten _me_ into?

"And you think I did it?" And John gives Scarlett a scowl because it was her who'd put forward the idea of vigilantism, he bet. She shrugs.

"This is all routine, but you must appreciate that we have to be eliminate you from our enquiries. Of course, a rival gang could be responsible. It most probably was. But you gain by their deaths too. And there's revenge. You have a motive. And your record… army?"

"Air Force."

"Trained to use a firearm then?"

"Chopper pilot. Rescue missions." He could see what they were getting at. Trained to kill, even if only self defence. They couldn't possibly ignore that. Yeah, he'd be a suspect all right…

"Like I said… professionally carried out…" And John could have acted a little more shocked. He guesses that that's been noted too. That he didn't. But he couldn't be shocked. No one deserves to die, to have their lives suddenly cut short… but he thinks that perhaps some don't deserve to die less than others...

"And Mr. Jaworski?"

"Ye-es," came Radek's broken reply. He's terrified he's going to say something wrong.

"I noticed that you called John, Mr Finley… I _can_ call you, John, can't I?" And John half-nods. What else can he do? Say no? But to call him John implies friendship… and that's one thing this guy isn't... his friend. "I noticed that you called John, Colonel, earlier? You an old military buddy, then?"

John jumps to Radek's defence. He just doesn't want Radek implicated in this. But can't see a way to demand that Radek be allowed home… "He has nothing to do with this. He didn't even know I _had_ a store, let alone one that burned down…"

"Just let me ask my questions, please. You two were friends in the military, Mr. Jaworski?"

John could sense that Radek was struggling to find an answer that was both truthful and gave nothing of Atlantis away.

"He was an assigned scientist to the forces," answers John. Because the last thing that Radek looked like was an ex-soldier. He hopes that will get Radek off the hook as these guys are obviously angling for an accomplice.

"And why would a scientist and a chopper pilot get to meet? Secret weapons, huh? Jaworski? That Polish?"

"I am Czech," confirms Radek miserably.

"A foreign national? You working here?"

"I am to take up a University post in the new academic year. In the meantime, I am writing papers."

"You have permits? Visas?"

"Yes. You wish to see them? I don't carry them around. They're at my apartment."

"No, that's fine." Because they'd be checking computer records later.

"So… John…" turning back to him, "can you tell us where you were last night?"

"Am I being arrested?" he asks in reply, because this is starting to have the feel that perhaps he should ask for a lawyer or something… though he hasn't been handcuffed…

"Hopefully not. Just answer some questions and we can leave you in peace. Can you tell us what you were doing last night, John? Say, from eight o'clock onwards?"

"I got a take out, sat and watched some TV and fell asleep." Not much of an alibi. And as good as admits to Radek the earlier lie about having friends round.

"Can anyone verify that? Neighbours? Mr. Jaworski perhaps?"

Radek shakes his head. He's still terrified and John can feel the Czech's tension. He hates it that Radek has somehow been dragged into this... has been made a part of this when he'd only come round to help.

"Neighbours will be able to say whether your car left the drive though." Because John has now bought a cheap, second-hand Subaru Forrester. "So what did you watch exactly?" And Detective Blakeman is good. He makes it seem like he's genuinely interested… that he's only being conversational… but he's getting info to check out later… and John fidgets… because he doesn't want to say… doesn't want to let on that he actually can't remember… it'd then be feeding Radek with ammo… and he'd rather not to do that either…

"I dunno… flicked round channels for a bit…" Which was true. "Saw a little of a Star Trek re-run…" Which was also true.

"You watch that stuff? Science fiction… I always think it's far fetched, myself," speaks up Detective Connors for the first time. "Then what?"

"I said… I fell asleep… I wasn't… feeling too well." And he can sense Radek stiffen beside him.

"Then you went to bed?" And it seems kinda weird to hear a total stranger ask about his personal life this way.

"Yeah." Which wasn't true. He hadn't gone to bed as such. He'd slept on the sofa all night, fallen asleep with the TV still on, fully clothed. And he'd meant to go out to the beach… to say goodbye again… his ritual… but he hadn't made it that far…

"Mr. Finley would not be able to do what you suspect him of-" And John suddenly wishes he could poke Radek hard in the ribs with an elbow.

"-Radek, don't," he says sideways.

"Why do you think that, Mr Jaworski?"

"Mr. Finley has a drink problem…"

"Radek…"

"You saying he'd passed out last night? He's on some sort of programme? He's having medication?"

"No. No. Nothing like that… Radek's got it all wrong…" interrupts John hurriedly.

"Colonel… let me help… please…" and Radek is almost begging.

"Radek, leave it… I didn't kill those guys… and that's that…"

Detectives Blakeman and Connors exchange glances.

"Did you or didn't you pass out last night? Is that why Mr. Jaworski is here? He's helping you to dry out?"

"No. It's nothing like that… Just drop it." Though John guesses they won't. It'll go down on a report somewhere. And perhaps Radek has done him a favour… but Radek has made the drinking seem a whole lot worse than it really is… And it hasn't worked wonders on his pride either…

Detective Blakeman is happy to do just that… 'drop it.' Abruptly, a new tack..."You own a gun, John?"

"Yeah."

"Can we see it?"

"Sure…" And John moves suddenly to stand.

"No. Stay sitting, please. Detective Connors here will fetch it." They don't trust him. They've gone edgy. Out of the corner of his eye, John notices Detective Connors discreetly unclipping his holster. What do they expect him to do? Take them all hostage?

"It's upstairs," he explains, and the detective heads for the door. "Bedside table." And crap… he'd never gotten round to tidying his bedroom…

Pooch disappears from his place by the door, and both he and Detective Connors can be heard clumping up the stairs. And they're looking into more than the bedside table. They're doing a full search...

"But if I were a professional killer, as you're making me out to be, don't you think I would hide or dispose of the gun somewhere other than my own home?"

"Just checking everything. You have to humour us, John." And the way that he's saying John is now condescending. And plain irritating. Because he just isn't John's pal.

There's more banging upstairs. And John leans forward, elbows on knees, to try and stretch. To try and relax if that's at all possible. It's getting unbearably hot in the room with so many people. He glances at Radek, who's practically sitting bolt upright. Rigid. Staring from Scarlett to the ceiling above them. John can't believe it… the two of them once, in space suits, trying to put Atlantis' power system back on line from the _outside_, being shot at by mini meteorites. Now they were here, side by side, on some crumby sofa...

"You have a warrant? To do this?" And John's indicating upstairs with raised eyebrows. And it feels a stupid thing to say. Like something right out of some cop TV show.

Blakeman reaches for an inside jacket pocket, producing a piece of paper that he half throws onto the coffee table. "Thought we didn't need one, thought you'd cooperate, John."

The two come down presently. John's newly acquired Beretta held by Detective Connor's pen by the trigger.

"Can you identify this as yours?"

"Yeah. It's mine."

"It's not the same calibre as the murder weapon." Detective Connors informs Blakeman. "Been fired once recently though." Connors allows it to slip, to thud noisily down onto the coffee table.

"So what have you been shooting, John, if not our three guys?" tries Blakeman, half joking.

"It's new. Tried it out on… target practice."

"Not so incapable then?" observes Blakeman pointedly at Radek. "Of course, you could have missed… Buy any others? Got a bill?"

"No. Just the one. Paperwork's in that cupboard. In a box." Detective Connors moves over to the corner and starts searching through there too. And Detective Blakeman nods to Scarlett and Pooch. And Pooch commences a search of the downstairs bedrooms and Scarlett is soon heard banging doors in the kitchen.

And John just sits there, gloomily, studying the floor and has to take it all. Knowing… knowing once, once there was a time… when he wouldn't have just sat there and taken it all… but there's a different set of rules here… it's a different world… here… here, he feels like the alien...

"McNaulty and Palmers?" asks Connors now that he's found the bill. So, they'll be checking that out too... to make sure he didn't purchase more than the one firearm.

"Yeah."

"Car keys?" And they're still in his jeans pocket. He throws them up at Detective Connors with little grace. He's getting tired of this now… he needs a… he needs a drink… surely he can get a drink?... it's his own goddamned house… but he thinks that if he does, they'll all be reaching for their guns pretty damned quick…

Detective Connors leaves the house. And suddenly the uncomfortable silence… except for the continued noises of his kitchen and lower bedrooms being searched… is broken by the sound of Radek's phone going off…

"Can I? It's my fiancée. I arranged to meet her… she'll be worrying."

And if Radek's domestic arrangements didn't sway these guys that they were innocent, John didn't know what would.

Blakeman nods his permission. And Radek carries on his conversation with Ruthie in loud whispers, turning his head away from John… for that's the only privacy he's going to be allowed.

"Ruthie…yes… another thirty minutes… I'm sorry… I'm delayed… I will explain… yes, I know I promised… yes… yes… bye… yes… the same to you… yes… yes… if I must… love you too…" And Radek pushes the red button, his face flushed. "You wish that I switch my phone off?" he offers. And he's being just so nice, it's really more than these guys deserve.

"No. That's fine, Mr. Jaworski. We'll be leaving shortly, as soon as my colleague has completed his search of John's car." So that sounds like John is in the clear...

Scarlett enters the room and shakes her head. Pooch isn't far behind. And the front door is heard to open and close, and Connors joins them once more in the living room.

"Nothing there." John supposes the tyres had been checked. For quarry dust residues. For tread patterns. Isn't that what they always did on TV?

Blakeman stands to leave. "Thank you for your help and time, Mr. Finley. If anything comes up, we'll be in touch."

"In the meantime, don't leave the country…" jokes John standing too, because, well, he's so damned relieved.

Detective Blakeman smiles thinly. "We'll see ourselves out." And the four make for the door.

"Thank goodness they have gone!" exclaims Radek, springing to his feet.

"Yeah," agrees John, shoving hands deep into pockets, stretching the tension out of his arms and shoulders, watching the two cars pull away, through the window.

"I must go also…" And Radek is uncertain. "Ruthie waits for me…"

"Yeah." He really doesn't know what else to say to Radek.

"What happened? The Detectives?… They talked of your store burning down?"

"I bought myself a surf shack. Some guys turned up one night and sorta said that if I didn't pay them so called... 'insurance', something… _nasty_ might happen… They burnt the place down… but… I didn't kill them, Radek…"

"I didn't for one moment believe that, Colonel… Are you…? Are you…?" and Radek pushes his glasses up further onto the bridge of his nose… which was always a habit of his, John had noticed, when he was agitated, or making a point… and John wondered why he'd never ever gotten his glasses fixed so they didn't slip down his nose. "Have you…?" And Radek is obviously nervous now. "You have funds? You have money?" And John can see why Radek is asking that. Because this house isn't exactly the Hilton, is it?

"Yeah. That's ok. I had insurance, _proper_ insurance." And if the worse ever came to the worse, he could always go cap in hand to his brother.

"Good. That is good. Not that… oh dear… I didn't mean that it is good that your place was burnt down…" and Radek is more embarrassed than ever, realising he might have put his foot in it, "I should go now… Ruthie…"

"Yes. You should. My advice has always been, never keep a lady waiting… And... Radek?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"About earlier… you don't have to worry… about me…" and John's looking down at the circular mat.

"And I have said… it is my duty as friend… No… it my _wish_ as friend to look out for you… even if you believe the drinking is not a problem… I should still be here for you… all you have to do is ask… there are not so many of us left now… we have to look out for one another."

And John looks up now. And meets Radek's eye. And nods. Because it's really appreciated. It really is.

-oAo-


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Alternative Reality I.

"It was a good speech," affirms Ronon, nodding appreciatively. And, thinks Rodney, if Ronon nods like that, then... it must have been. If Ronon nods like that, then... that proves it. Since Ronon seldom nods appreciatively, except if it's a good clean kill of a Wraith, or a mirror finish to a knife that he's just honed sharp and deadly.

Though Rodney had been forced to have notes ready to hand. And he was certain that he had ummed and ahh-ed most of the way through. He just wasn't an Elizabeth Weir. He had to admit that. But then, though Elizabeth had given speeches along the lines of… well, basically, prepare to meet thy doom, he knew that Elizabeth had never given a speech quite like this one… and while preparing his wording, while practising his emphasis, while rehearsing his nuances in front of the bathroom mirror that morning, he tried to imagine how that good woman might have presented such a speech.

You have to decide, he had said.

You have to decide, people, whether to remain on Atlantis, and, in all probability, go into hiding with said city under the command of Dr. Rodney McKay, and face whatever uncertain fate that might entail... but possibly fugitives forever… or, to leave, with Major Lorne, to go to the Alpha Site (for they dare not activate the Gate direct to Earth) to wait to be picked up by the Apollo, to throw themselves at the mercy of Stargate Command and the IOA and hope that the Trust were not too entrenched there, that Earth hadn't fallen under its powers, that someone, somewhere would listen favourably to what they had to say about Colonel Sheppard and the destruction of the Daedalus.

And Lorne had wanted him to add that even the military had that same choice. If any marine felt that their loyalty lay with Atlantis or with the vindication of Colonel Sheppard, they would be permitted to stay. The Major would not give them that order to return. But... they were reminded of oaths they had taken.

Rodney had left it to everyone's individual consciences and circumstances.

Anyone with questions, were to feel free to ask Major Lorne or Dr. McKay.

So, all in all, yes, perhaps, it had been a good speech.

He squares his shoulders proudly.

"Why, thank you, Ronon."

"Ok. Anytime. And you know what question everyone will be asking?"

"What's that?"

"How much danger are we actually in?"

And that would be… a lot.

Safety was not guaranteed whatever side anyone chose. Anyone accompanying Major Lorne even, could never be certain they would not be treated the same way as Woolsey or Colonel Sheppard.

And Ronon, before walking off, looks at Rodney significantly, allowing the full implication of his question to sink in... because he knew all this.

"Er, Ronon?"

Ronon stops in his tracks and heads back. "McKay?"

"How, er, is Teyla today?" Perhaps he should go and see her for himself but suddenly he feels he has a million and one things to see to, not least, to find a means to boost Atlantis' power to lift off from this planet… and to discover an actual destination to hide in.

He's going to be working with Radek quite a bit on this, using the Czech's new discovery of wormhole travel without gates, that they can take Atlantis through… and he must be getting older and wiser because he's quite happy to defer to Radek over this… perhaps that's what being in Command does to you… you have to learn to delegate those jobs that you had once thought were solely your domain… that only you could do to the utmost perfection that was required… though it's going to be one long headache after another to get all the necessary safety protocols in place… and only two weeks to do it in… that's how long the Apollo will take to arrive now Earth has been notified of the demise of the Daedalus. A quick burst of audio sent yesterday and then the Gate was hastily closed again. He hates doing things this way. But he had to protect the people here on Atlantis from any likely Trust attacks whilst at the same time he was honour bound to inform bereaved relatives.

"Perhaps you should go and see her yourself," and Ronon's echoing Rodney's own thought, but with a whole load of added criticism.

Ok. So five minutes wouldn't hurt from his busy schedule, would it? After all, it was hardly a day ago, though now it seems much longer... much, much longer... it almost seems like decades longer... that he felt that Teyla and Ronon were actually avoiding him because they'd devised some scheme or plot against the Daedalus that they meant to carry through without him. So he knows what it feels like... not to be spoken to...

Ronon mellows his voice a little. "Tagan would like a visit." And Ronon looks away to some distant invisible point further down the corridor. Because suddenly his eyes are sort of glazed and misty. "He's missing his father," explains Ronon. "We… we thought he would be too young… to remember but… he asks for him."

And Rodney feels that same pang. And nearly wants to retort that the child_ is _too young… and the old McKay… the pre-Sheppard-death McKay might have done… might have been that heartless… might have said that the boy will get over it… but not this Mckay… not the McKay that was still mourning Sheppard himself… with a grief that time won't heal… and even the events of yesterday, disastrous and mind-blowing though they were, won't obliterate those feelings…

"Ok. Later. Tell Teyla, I'll be by later."

And he means to keep to his promise but later turns out to be the following morning.

It's not his usual procrastination. The sort that has two voices in his head... the constant argument between the left and right hemispheres of a brain that won't be silent... the long drawn out pros and cons... science versus emotion... duty and intellect against… well, that dark and mysterious part of him that he won't admit the existence of… unless Jenny, or in the past, Jeanie nagged him until he did… his softer feminine side?... Anyway… it wasn't any of the above… He wasn't embroiled in some inner conflict that said yes, he should go and see Teyla, and no, he hated to see the mental anguish she was in and he couldn't deal with that… He really _did_ mean to keep his promise, but... later that morning for Rodney, had somehow become later that afternoon... and later that afternoon, then became later that evening, and later that evening... well he didn't even get to bed that night despite repeated requests from Jenny over his ear piece, and despite a _final_ repeated request from Jenny in person, accompanied by hot coffee and a sandwich... because she knew she was going to fail miserably.

Work in his lab kept him away.

There were just too many equations and symbols to go over, too much mathematical paraphernalia to cover with squeaky black pens over a dozen boards spread all over the Conference Room, before a final solution could be attained on Radek's wormhole theory.

Initially, every scientist that had wanted to remain with Atlantis had been there to assist, and Rodney had to admit to some inflation of inner pride that that total amounted to a full ninety per cent of the scientific contingent… And the other ten per cent were already on the next shipment home lists anyway. It had always been at the back of his mind, that perhaps he had railed at them just too many times and they would only be too glad to depart back to Earth at the earliest opportunity. Though hadn't they got homes and families to go to? He guessed not. He assumed that all his scientists just had to be some sort of social misfit to have come on the expedition in the first place and not do normal things like get married and raise families… (So did the fact that Rodney had a wife make him somewhere next to normal?) And to be in Rodney's department… well, you'd have to be some sort of oddball or eccentric otherwise you'd just go plain crazy… perhaps subconsciously, when he'd first selected these guys, that was a prerequisite he'd been looking for… certainly it was nothing to do with whether they had a memorable name…

As the night drew on, and the sky outside darkened, and the stars sparkled, and then lost that lustre as the dawn sky brightened and the aschatee flew once more, one by one, the scientists had drifted away to their beds, yawning and apologetic. And it was finally left to Radek and Rodney alone…

"Rodney, this is inhuman... this problem is inhuman… let us admit it is perhaps beyond us… or at least, let us sleep on it…" begs Radek.

"You can go… if you think you're not up to the task," and Rodney waves him away with his hand, tapping his pen thoughtfully against his lower lip. Radek stops at the door and turns, leaning heavily against the side, eyes drooping, too exhausted to argue.

Rodney glances up two minutes later to see his last surviving scientist seemingly asleep, propping up the door. "What, haven't you gone already?" And Rodney guesses he is too tired for the usual snark too. And he actually, genuinely feels some concern for the poor Czech who looks like he's going to land flat on his face any time soon. And Rodney doesn't feel like he has the energy to pick him up. "You waiting for me to come and tuck you in?!"

Radek's eyes suddenly spring open. "We have been fools not to see this!" And he sweeps back into the room, grabs a pen and with a flourish rubs out a dozen equations with a fist and begins to replace them at great speed.

"No! No! No! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" declares Rodney, pushing Radek aside, and is, in his turn, madly rubbing out numbers and furiously re-writing… except that his pen runs out… so he is forced to snatch Radek's but Radek scarcely notices the disappearance of the pen from his clasped fingers, gaping at the board with wide eyes.

"Your answer…" announces Rodney, standing back smugly, smiling at his work, with arms folded.

"Eureka…" says Radek in hallowed tones.

"The old guy hasn't lost it, eh?" And he did wonder...

But all the scientists' contribution had been appreciated. Radek and Rodney couldn't have done it alone. Rodney couldn't have done it alone. Rodney had to admit that. One day he'd have to thank them. For now, the best he could do was to try and protect them… to save their lives perhaps… what greater reward could these guys ask for?

So now he is heading for Teyla's quarters. Late. Later than later. But this had had to have priority. Before Lorne could depart for the Alpha Site, it had to be ensured that Atlantis could actually be moved… using the minimum amount of power… saving sufficient in the ZPMs to live on, however long that might be… perhaps forever… They had to be certain that it was all viable… otherwise… otherwise, they might as well surrender right there and then and open the Gate…

He feels awful though. Triumphant. A little. Still. But awful. He activates the chime on Teyla's door. And catches his reflection, which is awful, in one of those bubbly effervescent fish-tanky things (that didn't have fish and that no one had ever been able to figure out the purpose of, so it was always assumed it was purely for décor... unless, as Sheppard had pointed out once... its where Ancient pet goldfish had actually swum once... and since they were now long dead, and Sheppard had guessed that after ten thousand years, not even fish bones would have survived for so long, the tanks were now home to fish ghosts and should therefore be venerated… of course, Sheppard was drunk at the time… and shortly after, there had been a mad snow-ball fight with the contents of a bean bag…)

The door opens, revealing Teyla working at the counter preparing food, Tagan on the floor mat, playing, and JJ asleep in the crib… a scene so similar to the other day that Rodney suddenly has a 'Ground Hog Day' feeling and nearly does a double take…

Teyla glances up, briefly smiling, though not with her eyes…

"Rodney, it is good to see you." And she refrains from saying at long last, though it must have been on the tip of her tongue. "Are you well? You look…"

"Awful? Yes. I know." He looks for somewhere to sit but every seat is already occupied… with toys, baby clothes, kiddies' things… this isn't like Teyla… normally so neat and tidy… he guesses she could be forgiven.

Tagan looks up. But doesn't do his usual thing… throwing a toy for Rodney to go fetch… instead… he lifts up a plane… "Da da…"

All that Rodney is feeling at that moment… all the euphoria at solving Radek's problem, all the fatigue at being up all night, all the thoughts that he is beleaguered by... the practicalities of getting Lorne to the Alpha Site... getting Atlantis out of here... evaporates... replaced by something so… so painful... so cutting…

They were never joking... the person who first thought up the phrase 'pulling on heart strings'… because that's what's happening to Rodney right now… his heart is being tugged in two by those tightening strings…

Teyla seems not to notice, perhaps deliberately ignoring the words of her son. She comes round the end of the counter and hastily clears Rodney a space on the small sofa, apologising.

"And may I ask what has been the cause... of your present appearance?" she asks before returning to the counter. Tagan is now on his hands and knees and scrambling across the floor to Rodney's sofa. He's at that age when crawling is still so much quicker than walking. "Ronon has said you are attempting to carry out in practice, Radek's new wormhole theory, so that we can make our escape from this planet? This has kept you from sleep, perhaps?"

Tagan has made it successfully to the sofa and hauls himself up to standing, holding onto the sofa's arm, still with the plane clasped tightly in one hand, teetering a little.

"Yes. I'm sorry…"

Tagan lets go of the sofa with the hand clutching the plane and waves it in the air at Rodney. "Da… da? Da… da?"

And Teyla freezes, tense, staring at her son. Her hands now motionless. And Rodney also, still hasn't been able to take his eyes off the boy. Teyla tries bravely to carry on the conversation. As does Rodney. Though he's thinking of the flash drive, carried on his necklace. Thinking of the video he would rather forget – and can't.

"Why… why are you… apologising?" asks Teyla, faltering.

"Da …da? Da… da?" repeats Tagan.

Tagan's simple question is throwing Rodney, and yes, he's dead beat, but normally he can find words, normally his mind didn't go quite so... blank... that he forgets what he's going to say next. "I … I… I meant to come and visit sooner, I got held up." This is nearly impossible… to pretend they don't know, haven't noticed, don't understand what it is that Tagan is talking about...

"Da da? Da da? Da da?" Strings pulling at Rodney's heart is nothing to the feel of a heart breaking in two. And… he… Rodney… who… who once as a rule didn't even like children… now wants to scoop the boy up… scoop him up and hug him till the hurt all goes… whose hurt though?… whose hurt?

"Don't, Tagan. Don't, Tagan. Tagan go back to the mat," appeals Teyla, coming round the counter again, clutching at its corners, tears in her eyes.

And Rodney feels so helpless, doesn't know what to do… to comfort Teyla or pick up the child?… both he'd feel uncomfortable with… so he does neither... "Should you… I mean… should you say that to him?" And it sounds like the sort of advice he might have read in one of Jenny's magazines or a dentist waiting room once… an agony aunt column... that you shouldn't deny a child's curiosity...

"But he doesn't stop! He will not stop, Rodney! I do not know what to do!" she says so desperately.

"Da da?" And the boy loses his grip on the sofa and thumps down hard on his backside and begins to cry.

Rodney jumps up alarmed but Teyla has rushed over and quickly picks Tagan up in her arms, showering her child in tearful kisses and stroking her fingers through his thick black hair, rocking him from side to side.

"It's ok, Tagan… shhhh… shhhh… mama is here… shhhh… it's ok."

Teyla sits on the sofa, nestling Tagan down on her lap, and when the boy's tears slow down, his mother wipes her own and his, with her own hand... "It's ok, Tagan, mama is here." And Tagan seems happy now, comfy in his mother's arms, to simply finger the wheels of the plane, sending them spinning round and round...

And Rodney watches. And he stares at the spinning wheels. A flashback moment...

'What's this?' asked Sheppard picking up the Ancient device, and it was the trillioneth thing that Sheppard had picked up, demanding to know it's use, waiting for Rodney to finish in the labs one day. Though he's fiddling and he's only fiddling coz he knew it would annoy Rodney.

'Now what?!' For Rodney had allowed Sheppard to succeed in riling him.

'This… What's this?' _This _is he size of a USB flash drive but with a tiny wheel at one end. Sheppard's fingers toy with the silvery metallic wheel. Sending it spinning so it's cogs disappeared in a hazy whirl. And even that tiny motion had set Rodney's teeth on edge with annoyance.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' warned Rodney over his shoulder at him.

'Oh, and why not?' taunted Sheppard.

'Well, it's not been tested-'

'-Thought I _was..._ testing it. What harm could this _little _thing possibly do, anyhow? Looks nothing more than a lighter.'

And Rodney turned and put a hand on his hips. 'Well, don't disparage little things… the protection badges were only little remember? What if… what if… it were some sort of… displacement device… whisked you away from here? Now, at the moment, I'd find that very useful… because I'm finding your presence here, very …' Distracting, he'd thought. '_Unuseful_… but it'd be a mote inconvenient if we could never find you again…'

_If we lost you..._

Rodney is relieved that everything is relatively under control now... grateful that no demands have been made upon him. He's still at a loss at what to say. Teyla saves him the trouble.

"How can he know?" she whispers, "he is so young." She is quiet, thinking. And then, certain that Tagan is calm now, she stands and places him back on his mat. She returns to her place beside Rodney, her hands clasped tight in her lap, whispering still, gazing at the playing boy, checking on him always. "There is an ancient Athosian tradition that between eight and twelve days after death… the souls of the departed are free to visit those they have known and loved… especially if the opportunity to say… goodbye… was denied them... It is a tradition that came about because of the Wraith... you don't think… you don't think that Tagan is... somehow _aware_... and is calling his father… or…" and she looks around the room open-eyed, "that John has visited and Tagan remembers?" She looks at Rodney, and then turns away absently, sighing, "I forget… you do not believe in such things..."

_Ghosts._ Was Teyla talking of ghosts? And Rodney looks round the room uneasily. Sheppard's ghost here? No... no... but if he were... here... to say... goodbye... is the ghost of Sheppard something to be feared? He remembers Teyla in the Chair… and he's not so sure… and scientists need that, don't they?... proof… substantiation… evidence… they won't believe anything until they see it with their own two eyes… so he's not sure if he can quite scoff at the notion…

And Teyla is confiding in him… _Him_? Not her usual candidate for sharing confidences. How could he even contemplate being so heartless as to ridicule? Perhaps he should call Jenny… but were ghosts even woman's talk?... And how was he supposed to know? So he finds some words, and its difficult… it's against the grain, the very wood sap of Rodney McKay… he finds words that he hopes are tactful and understanding and bites against all the others…

"I'm sorry… no… and if it were true, wouldn't he have visited you as well? Just a thought."

Or even any one of them…

"Perhaps you are correct. But children were supposed to be more susceptible to these visits, I recall. And... my experience in the Chair… I can still not explain that… so real… like John… was both _inside _and_ beside _me… perhaps, Rodney, that _was_ my visitation."

"But it wasn't, if I remember, a particularly… happy event?"

"No… no… it wasn't… this is correct… but I still often have these sensations… that John is just there… just there at my finger tips…" and she holds up her hand in front of her face, spreading out her fingers, "and this all started from the time I first sat in the Chair… You were not there when I explained things to Ronon and Major Lorne, but the Major decided not to include everything in his recording."

"There was more?" And goodness knows, they'd been enough already.

"Yes," nods Teyla emphatically. "The Major did not believe it was relevant… owing to…"

"What?"

"I don't know…" Teyla's need to talk is disappearing, being replaced rapidly with reluctance, and she looks for some time at her playing son before resuming. "I have said that the ship I was firing upon was not the Daedalus. I was seeing… something else entirely… through John's eyes… a vision perhaps?... A warning?... but it makes little sense… Perhaps I was merely deluding myself… convincing myself it was another alien ship simply to make the event more amenable to my… conscience…" And she shudders. "All those people, Rodney, who... have died at my hands… all those poor people…" Repeating the words of Lorne's recording. Her eyes flooding with yet more tears. And Rodney does the gentlemanly thing and searches the room for a box of those tissues, standing up and virtually running across the room to return with his trophy, offering Teyla one. Jenny would be so proud of him. But as Teyla wipes her eyes and sniffs, he wonders if even now he's gotten it wrong… perhaps he should be offering a hug instead… and still unsure, he's even half lifting his arms in readiness but Teyla saves him once again and picks up the strength to continue talking...

"I think that it could not have been a warning, a premonition, you see," and she sniffs again, "as it seemed to concern John, himself... perhaps we have to understand it as being symbolic…"

"Symbolic?" And he nods his head in what he hopes is a sagely manner, compatible with the new combined status and position of both Commander and confidante he's finding himself in.

"The alien ship was firing its own weapons, you see… they were reminiscent of the blue beam that Oberoth fired at us once… so much destruction… the towers of Atlantis were collapsing… much as was described by Colonel Carter in her vision brought to her by the Seer… this beam swept across the city to target the Chair… to target John… I experienced then… the beam hitting the Chair… I experienced…" and Teyla stopped once more and swallowed hard, her eyes searching, scanning the room, as if to find help, somewhere there, her glance falling eventually on Tagan again, watching him play, "I experienced John's pain, as the beam struck the Chair, his... his agony as the Chair was overturned and destroyed along with Chair Room. I felt…" And she drew her arms around herself tight… "that he did not die on this occaision… but he... my husband... suffered… and I experienced that also… the passing of days, weeks, months… this is how it seemed… because of that incident… he suffered injuries… but he also suffered… loss… he was alone, Rodney... I felt his… _separation_ from us… This is why I believe it is symbolic… I felt his loss… By dying, he lost everything here in Atlantis… Everything and everyone… It was his ghost, Rodney. I am convinced of it." And she looks at him hard with those big brown eyes of hers. "It was his visit to me… I am convinced of it..."

"Da da," says Tagan suddenly, holding up a model Jumper towards the window. The two adults look at him. And then their gaze follows the direction of his pointing.

An aschatee can be seen through the full length glass, perched on the balcony railing, the wind gently ruffling it's pure white feathers before it takes off, ascending high into the blue sky.

-oAo-


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Alternative Reality II. 

Only one drink tonight. He promised himself that. After all, it wouldn't do to get arrested for drink driving on top of everything else.

The night was pitch black. A low cloud over the moon. The sea thick and oily. Softly sighing. Behind him, canvas that protected the burned out shell of his shack flapped in the breeze as a ghostly white shadow. The sand blew in eddies and hissed around the metal barricades set up to keep out intruders and inquisitive kids.

They could begin rebuilding next month he had been told. And tomorrow there was a meeting on site with the planning department, the owners, the builders, the insurers… and… not forgetting… John Finley.

Begin again.

How many times could he do that?

Yeah, and how many times could he go through this ritual? Perhaps he should stop… Was it really helping?

'Want to share a beer?' He'd asked Rodney after one particularly hairy mission, when they'd narrowly escaped being captured by some primitives armed to the teeth with spears and arrows, who had no concept, of 'we come in peace.'

'I'm busy-' and Rodney does a double take, because he can't believe his ears. 'What? You asking _me?_"

Sheppard had peered round the room pointedly, as, no one else was there. And Rodney had understood the look and gesture.

Out on the pier. Much the same as the time when Rodney had that virus. Much the same as now. A moonless night. The water black and heaving like some sea monster.

'You? Scared? Never!' said Rodney.

'Yeah. Was too.'

'For real?'

'Yeah.'

'You?'

'Rodney. I said. Me. I was scared.'

Scared he was going to lose them all. It'd been that close. Teyla and Ronon were still being fixed up in the Infirmary. Sheppard had gotten by with a graze gouging through his scalp. And Rodney had said that he looked like he'd taken holy orders with the dressing right smack in the middle of his pate.

'It will grow again? My hair?' He'd asked Jenny uncertainly, when informed of the bald patch. Rodney had said his hair was all that had protected him. Probably true, though he remembered the approaching hiss of the spear and liked to think his lightning reflexes might have had something to do with it too...

_Rodney. I said. Me. I was scared._

Were these memories ever going to stop? Was he condemned for always to relive these small, small things... forever and ever... to feel them swell up so enormous, so out of proportion, the waves of a stormy sea battering against the walls of that place that he'd always kept so protected, so guarded. Waves so huge he feels… overwhelmed... feels… pounded to an empty nothingness… ruined battlements where only ghosts roam…

...his memories are like ghosts and he's seeing them everywhere…

He had said he was scared he was going to lose them all.

Now... he _had_ lost them all. Now... it's no longer the big 'what if'. Now... it's reality. Now... he has to live with it.

He can think of nothing new to say as he throws the bottle into the sea. Because it's the same old hurt. The same words in his head.

"Miss you, guys... miss you..."

-oAo-

AR. I.

Teyla had insisted that Rodney leave. He guessed it might have had something to do with inertia.

He was trying his hardest to play with Tagan down on the mat while Teyla fed JJ who'd woken up. He was never a natural with children, finding that any sort of relationship always went a whole easier when he could actually talk to them, in his own language, preferably when they were, say, twenty one... So there he was... on the floor... explaining the Puddle Jumpers and their dampeners and the principles of inertia, which was so banal, he could do it with his eyes shut or in his sleep, but which Teyla had pointed out, had been literally the case… he was talking with his eyes shut and, quite possibly, he was asleep too…

He was like a zombie, slumping his feet along the corridors of Atlantis, zoning to his quarters on some automatic guided missile system, though careful to straighten and stiffen and acknowledge greetings and salutes, mindful that's what Commanders are supposed to do. Once encounters with other personnel had passed, he was quickly back to holding onto walls to prevent himself from face planting on the nice shiny floor... nice shiny _hard _floor, though there were moments when it seemed to beckon irresistibly as a place of rest and he had to rouse himself sharply and remind himself of a far, far better place with soft, soft pillows...

This was stupid though, feeling his way round like a blind person…

Suddenly… awake…

_'I'm scared, Rodney... me... I'm scared...'_

And he drew his hand sharply away from the wall… not an electric shock… but pretty much the same effect as one… perhaps it was and he was too dozy to know… Something wrong with the superconductivity of the walls?... Radek must have been interfering again…

What had he been thinking of before?… Sheppard… naturally… Jumpers… inertia… natural ability...

_There… there… I feel as if he is there beside me… I can touch him almost… not quite… _

Teyla's words.

He gingerly touched the wall again...

Of course, these things never work the second time round… if it'd worked in the first place at all… but... he'd been thinking of Sheppard… and then the weird sensation… no… no… not true… none of this was true... He just hadn't heard Sheppard's voice... he just hadn't...

Rodney crashed out as soon as he reached his and Jenny's shared apartments. Face down on their bed, one hand hanging limply over the side, fully clothed. Jenny would probably have something to say about that but he didn't particularly care… well, not for the moment, anyhow...

He woke himself up once, snoring.

He woke himself up a second time, dribbling onto the pillow.

A third time, vaguely aware of Jenny, covering him with a blanket.

"Thanks…" he slurred. And then… "Sorry…"

"What for?" He didn't reply. But he was certain he must have done something wrong. She kissed his forehead gently. "Sweet dreams," she said.

"Don't have them… dreams," he replied, ready to give her the full lecture on that, but fell asleep and dreamed anyway...

'Wanna share a beer?' asked Sheppard.

'Who me?'

'Well, I don't see anyone else here…'

And they end up on the pier.

'Life runs in a straight line.'

'Well, certainly, waves. You often get a whole load of crap just dumped on you on the low points of those waves. Though… you can surf the crest of a wave and life feels cool.'

'Yes, but, you know a wave is technically a line, life runs in a line.'

'Like railway tracks…' muses Sheppard, sipping his beer, not taking his eyes off the distant horizon of the sea.

'Yes, well, if you're still at the level when you need pictures to explain everything, yes…'

'Though a railway track is two lines.'

'What?'

'And then two railway tracks are four.'

'Managed to get that far in kindergarten then? How very observant.' How drunk was Sheppard exactly? He'd only had the one can.

'So where's this analogy taking us?' Because although Rodney's started this, he's lost track, literally.

'Oh, I don't know, lives running parallel, I guess. You know, all of us, here. Coming from different directions, joining, running together, probably one day… pulling away again… like tracks do… you know…' and he shrugs, seems coy, embarrassed to be expressing all this.

And suddenly...

Rodney's on a train. And it's like a silent movie. Two tracks running along by the coast. And Sheppard is on a runaway train. And he's calling to Rodney. Reaching to Rodney from the other train. And Rodney is trying to reach Sheppard. And the ground is speeding beneath them. The rush of air. His fingers reach through the cold air... but their fingers do not touch... nearly... but not quite...

'Hey Rodney! I need some help here! Rodney! Rodney! Do something quick!'

And the track of the runaway train curves round and takes Sheppard further away. His voice becoming a distant echo...

And suddenly...

Sheppard is in the cell again. He looks up at the camera. 'Rodney… help… Rodney…'

'I can't... I can't… I can do most anything… but I can't do this… rewind… rewind the tape… I don't want to see you die…' but he watches anyway… Sheppard jerking with each shot… 'I'm going to wake up… I'm going to wake up. You're just a ghost. You're just a ghost...'

And Rodney woke, feeling hot and sweaty, what with his clothes on, and the blanket. He wished Jenny hadn't brought him the blanket. He threw it off, mumbling and moaning, falling asleep again instantly though he hated this dream...

And it's back to the tracks again. He's standing on the tracks. Calling, shouting at the distant train that is Sheppard's. Fingertips stretching out. Touching the fading horizon where the train is now only a small black speck. But he could reach… he could reach that black speck… that point of infinity… Sheppard is there… nanometres from the tips of his fingers… he can feel him… he can feel him there…

'They'll be a junction soon…' says Rodney, 'we'll join up again… wait… wait… not long… just give me time to think… I'll work something out… just give me some time… '

And he woke again. Soaked with perspiration now. Unable for a brief second to remember where he was. Thankfully not at the side of railway tracks. Nor watching the video. But it's there. He winked open an eye. The USB drive. Beside him on the pillow...

And wasn't there a child told a story once, that if you put something under your pillow, you'd then dream about it?… scientifically so not true… he'd proven it… six years old he'd been… that particular fairy had had its wings well and truly crushed along with the tooth fairy's… yet… here it was… not exactly under his pillow, more like under his nose… on a chain, carried around his neck that had worked its way lose of his collar in his tossing and turning.

There were three other copies. Two he'd hidden round Atlantis. One Ronon knew the existence of. The other, Radek. Lorne was taking the fourth copy back to Earth with him.

Jenny had asked him why he carried it around his neck. Why not hide it along with the others? He didn't know. It wasn't as if it were a talisman. Even if Rodney believed in such things... it didn't exactly suggest good fortune… much like a lucky rabbit's foot hadn't been very lucky for the rabbit…

Neither could it be a memento. A memento of what? Did he need a memento of man's inhumanity to man?

A reminder then… a reminder of what he must do… a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, huh?...

He gained strength from it he guessed… Sheppard was in its pictures… probably doing the toughest thing ever… facing his death that way… knowing there was no way out… not this time...

And what had Rodney got to do? Carry on Sheppard's work… protecting Atlantis and its people… hopefully not always against all odds… but still, Rodney's toughest job yet…

But laying there in the haze of sleep, he wanted to do more.

His dream. A voice had said:rewind the tape… rewind the tape… _his _voice?... well, a fairly old-ish voice as no one says 'tapes' anymore…

Rewind the tape. Put the wrong, right.

Sheppard had said Rodney had done it once before. When Sheppard had gotten himself shunted forward 48,000 years into the future. And Rodney had succeeded in saving Sheppard and sending him back to present time again. But it had taken years and years of Rodney's life and he'd finally only been able to complete the task as a hologram.

But Sam had said it was wrong to interfere with time… too many repercussions…

Could Rodney do that, however? Could he reverse time, somehow, to put things right? And, despite what Sam had said, would it be so very bad to bring Sheppard back, to bring the Daedalus back? To bring Sheppard back for Teyla, for Tagan and JJ, for Atlantis? Allow him to return and fight another day. Would it be so very wrong? And really, Sam, if you could hear, would it be? All those times Sheppard had saved Rodney... all of them... from the brink, didn't Rodney owe him that much? However long it took?… However hard it was?…

AR. II.

John doesn't sleep.

A series of squally showers in the night sees to that... and broken dreams that leave him wide awake staring into the darkness, listening to a door, or something, banging, somewhere, outside in the gusts of wind.

He lay there, steeling himself not to go downstairs for something to drink... He'd purposely left it there to remove the temptation... He's stronger than that... but of course it means... seeing his ghosts... seeing his memories replay before his eyes as if the black night were some sort of dark screen...

'Will you hurry up?!' he yells at Rodney whose trying to fix the DHD on MB2 3XC, as Genii fire off a dozen rounds that whistle past their heads and flick up dirt at their boots. There's only so much covering fire, Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard can do before they'll have to abandon this idea and dive for the shelter of nearby cut timbers. And John is down to the ammo of his handgun already...

'I'm doing!' screams Rodney.

'Not good enough!' John shouts as chips of wood and leaves are blasted off near by trees.

'You've no idea of the intricacies-'

'-Not now, Rodney!'

'It's complicated-'

'-And.' John takes down one guard in the leg.

'I.' Another he hits in the arm. That Ronon finishes in the chest.

'Said.' Another two fall under the hail of bullets from both Teyla and John.

'Not.' John hits another in the knee and the genii collapses, rolling in agony, clutching at his leg, his screaming adding to the confusion.

'Now.' And another falls, holding hands to blood at his stomach. This is messy and murderous. These guys just won't take the hint and back down. And he hates it. He's needs Rodney to finish, to end this manslaughter. To prevent this ending in _their_ manslaughter.

'Ah ha...' and Rodney's triumphant cry is so out of place but John knows the tone and he's grateful. They're out of there, safe, that's the main thing...

But it doesn't last... safety... a couple of weeks and the other three are dead anyway...

And just as he's given up all hope of sleep and thinks he'll go for an early shower, he's dreaming... and wakes with a... start. The banging is louder than ever and it's driving him crazy. Along with the constant buzzing of a half dozen flies that have somehow made their way upstairs. But he can't be bothered to find spray. The noise sounds like it's coming from the direction of the Spencers' place. Perhaps as a part of turning over the new leaf, he should go round there tomorrow and fix whatever it is that's obviously broken. Nice and neighbourly.

Banging again.

"Crap!" He's just got to go and sort this out now. Tetchy because he hasn't had a drink lately, huh?

And he's shoving on jeans for quickness and he's out of the door, grabbing a flashlight and pushing into trainers with no socks, on the way. He shivers in only a tee. At least, its not raining. Though the wind makes the house next door kinda creepy in the darkness. This is stupid. He's gonna get himself 'nearly-arrested' again going into someone's garden in the dead of the night...

Even in the beam of his light he can pick out the well-cared for flowerbeds and neatly edged lawns on either side of the path. He grimaces. The Spencers's garden is tidier than his. A whole lot tidier. He should do something about that. There's an old lawnmower in the garage. Perhaps he should try and fathom out how it works but he's never done a days gardening in his life. And his lawn... he glances back at it remembering how brown and tawny it is in the light of day.... perhaps he should work out how the sprinkler system goes too... He's sure the Spencers could give him pointers. All he has to do is swallow his pride and ask...

He follows the sound, now only a low thudding, along the path that curves round to the front door. Catching sight of a dull shiny object under the eaves of the Spencer's place... the first time he's noticed it... an alarm that hasn't been set... which is odd, because its night and because he'd thought the Spencers had gone away... their curtains were still drawn, late that afternoon.

Closer to the front door and the racket starts again as the wind picks up. He swings the flashlight over the porch. It's the door itself... left open... swinging to and fro and shuddering against the frame. There are others around that don't remember to lock their doors?

What does he do now? Just slam it shut and run? Like some school kid playing a prank and knocking on all the neighbours doors and scramming before they answer?... no... he never did it... just remembers those who had... Or should he call first? Either way, if they're home, and asleep, he's going to spook them. The wind drops fractionally, and the door wavers and remains ajar about a foot.

And then he hears another noise in the stillness.

Buzzing. Like there's bee hives in there...

He freezes.

His heart sinks.

He knows that sound only too well... he knows the cause of that sound only too well...

No... not them...

In his mind, he sees the bodies of those Michael had murdered... or those casualties who have died in the deserts of Afghanistan... flies, maggots finishing off, what their killers began. It's why there's so many over at his place...

He sniffs. And there's the all too familiar smell... rotting meat... flesh...

He might as well dial 911 now. Save himself from what's going to be inside... He looks back at his own house, with some longing he has to admit, its outline vague as a hint of dawn starts to lighten the sky. His phone is there... and... his free hand wipes across his unshaven cheeks, he really does need that drink now...

Better check this out first though... after all, it might only be a cat or something that's wandered in there and died...

He puts a hand over his nose preparing himself for the stench that he just knows is waiting for him. He guesses he mustn't touch anything. Likely as not this is going to be a crime scene. And he pushes the door open with a foot. It's laid out the same as his and he's been here a few times before so he's soon in the living room. Flicks the light over the room, disturbing flies by the dozens, and quickly beats a retreat, virtually throwing himself out onto the lawn beyond the door, hands on knees, gasping for air... he's not going to be sick... dammit... he's not going to be sick...

And though both ladies' heads were slumped forward, the image is still there in his mind, sharp and clear... two pairs of wide staring eyes that don't see the flies crawling over them... hell, he's going to be having even more nightmares... Both are sitting tied to chairs... shot through the temples... professionally and humanely carried out... if you can ever call killing humane... but John hopes that had been the case... because they just didn't deserve this... It must have been a robbery. Or made to look like it... Papers were everywhere. Drawers and cupboards left wide open.

He straightens up, and sighing, he jogs back round to his own house for that phone. And his drink. Which tastes foul after the bile in his mouth... he feels a whole load better, though... he's broken his promise yet again, he knows... and it's only just daybreak... _'Go and live' says Rodney..._ yeah... you wanna try it, Rodney, with all this stuff happening...

He grabs a jacket and returns to the roadside, waiting for the police as instructed by the operator. It's half light now, and the birds are singing their hearts out. A hint of sun is rimming the distant eastern hills. He paces up and down as sirens get closer and closer. And this all feels weird again. To be in these situations where he's in the control of others, to be on the receiving end of all this. When once, he'd be the one giving out the orders, telling others what to do...

He guesses this will turn into something of a media circus... and he's reminded of Lennox telling him to try and keep a low profile... so far he's failed on that. Not his fault. But... he hopes the press will keep away, anyway... he couldn't face all that... but that's never going to happen is it?... this is America.

Three patrol cars break the peace and quiet of the neighbourhood. Followed minutes later by a couple of vans of techs. And for now they're happy to let him stay out on the sidewalk, out of the way.

He's asked questions though.

They want to know the names of the deceased. When he discovered the bodies. And are kinda interested in when he'd noticed the curtains first drawn... and the flies. Everything is getting written down. And that feels... worrying... but he knows it's just procedure... And no, he hasn't seen or heard anything suspicious. And no, he has no idea who might have done this. No. He doubts the Spencers had enemies. How could they? The Spencers are, _were_ the archetypal good neighbours. A couple of nice ladies. He hadn't known them long. He hasn't lived here long. He lives alone. What has that to do with anything? He owns, or did own, until it was burnt down a few days ago, a surf shack... Why do they even want to know that? And yes... he has had a drink... who wouldn't? Yes. He does drink. Who doesn't? But he tries to keep fit too... he jogs and he surfs... but they don't ask about that... What time did he find them? The middle of the night? And what was he doing about in the middle of the night? A door banging... couldn't sleep... and yes... if John were a cop, he'd be pretty suspicious about that too... so you got a flashlight and went looking?... yeah... and John starts to think... this is looking bad... a solitary male prowling round the garden of two females in the dark...

But... they still only require him to stay put on the sidewalk... They'll be detectives along shortly, he's told, so don't leave yet... and John finds himself praying that they're not Connors and Blakeman... He watches as the techs don white coveralls and take cases of what he guesses are forensic paraphernalia into the house... He watches as officers talk on radios, or spin blue and white tape round everywhere... that flickers and clicks in the stiff morning breeze.

This just isn't happening to him. This just isn't real.

By now, the sun is fully up and white clouds scud across the sky. He has no idea of the time and wishes they'd let him go because of his planning meeting later. Other neighbours are awake now, and coming out of their doors, disturbed by all the commotion. One or two are soon on phones. He surmises that they're telling the morning news guys. Hell! He just wants to get out of here. He folds his arms shivering in the chill morning air. He guesses he's tired still. And involuntarily yawns so that sorta proves it... He tries pacing up and down to get warm.

A car pulls up. That he recognises. Connors and Blakeman.

They nod a greeting as they climb out their vehicle. "Finley," says Blakeman, smiling sourly.

"Guys... Crimewave just got bigger," John shrugs, apologising.

"So it seems," agrees Blakeman. "Wanna join us at the house?" indicating towards the tape that Connors has just ducked under.

John hesitates fractionally. This isn't good. A cop guarding the line lifts the tape for him, and he follows Connors, with Blakeman coming in behind.

Connors disappears inside while Blakeman tells him to wait at the doorstep.

"We might need to ask you some more questions," he explains. So they know he's the one who'd found the bodies? The power of communications...

Blakeman enters to join his colleague. They're only just inside the hall... talking with the officer who's been taking notes... John picks up fragments of their conversation... sees the two detectives nodding... taking it all in... Blakeman looks in John's direction occasionally... though there's some vindication in the world... John can see that they're getting the full brunt of the stench and are forced to cover their mouths from time to time.

John puts his hands in his pockets... trying to appear casual... no... no... _innocent..._ and suitably shocked... which isn't difficult standing here... knowing what's in that room...

He feels... exposed, vulnerable, singled out from all the other bystanders... certainly, he's in the way, having to move to one side every time someone wants to pass by to collect equipment from the vans. And he's light headed. The Scotch and no breakfast... So what's new? He feels damn conspicuous... he's still wearing his night gear under his jeans and jacket, and he hasn't washed or shaved... he must really look like some kind of freak, some kind of pervert who goes round killing nice ladies...

A forensic guy comes out of the living room, into the hall... more low murmur of conversation. Some of which reaches him. Same calibre... probably same gun... certainly same method... same as the guys who'd been shot two nights before... time of death... probably same time... though decomposition rapid... it's been hot... shot through the head... no sexual assault...

"Possibly burglary..." the guy concludes.

"Or made to look like it..." theorizes Blakeman. "We can come in now?"

"Fingerprints and shots not finished... Just look through the door." Photography is flashing in the interior room and can be seen through the still closed curtains. There's a brief pause while the two detectives peer through to the other room, re-appearing to stand by the door... to get some air, no doubt... looking the worse for the experience... and Blakeman is heard coughing... the front door is closed... Blakeman wants to talk in private with the cop who was taking notes again.

John's bad feeling is getting a whole lot worse. It doesn't help with the knowledge that there's now a probable link with the three protection guys... the same gun... and there's another link with all five... _him..._

John wonders if he should be contacting Lennox... this has got to be one of those 'actualities' that Lennox had talked about... though at the time that Lennox had mentionned it, John couldn't think what sort of problems would have to crop up before Lennox became involved... no way would Lennox ever be interested in nightmares... or ghost pains in his unfeeling hand...

Another van draws up on the road... that gives John something of a distraction.... coroners' department... the guys getting out of that and entering the house are told nothing is ready yet either...

Connors and Blakeman come out after them... serious... and John turns to face them, squaring up... he as good as knows they'd soon be speaking with him... he's ready... but can't stop his heart pounding... And his hands... even his dud one... feel hot and sticky at his sides....

"Finley... we're going to have to take you in..."

At least, they're apologetic about it. "We need finger prints, DNA... more questions... but not here."

John looks to the growing crowd assembled on the sidewalk. He swallows hard. A strange feeling... a new emotion... it's panic... he's never felt it before... panic that can make a mind go blank... and then... panic that can make a mind think... escape... run away... find a way out... quick... avoid this...

"Why not at my place?" he manages, huskily.

"No. Not your place, John. I'm sending in a forensic team. They're going to be doing a full, intensive search, this time... we wouldn't want to get in the way, now, would we?"

"I didn't do it..." he says quietly. He guesses everyone says that. "I phoned this one in for heaven's sake..."

And he surprises himself just how calm his voice is now. Faced with the inevitable. He supposes on the scale of things, from being attacked by Wraith to having technical errors on a Jumper whilst in the vacuum of space... being suspected of murder is pretty much on the low side.

"You'd be surprised, how many times the person discovering the crime is the one who's committed it..."

"I didn't do it..." he repeats dumbly, "I had no reason..." He's starting to sound like he's begging, pleading.

"Perhaps you were just blind drunk and don't remember?" says Connors. "And you wouldn't be the first ex-military who couldn't hack it."

That's all they have to go on? "Guys?" Hell, he _is_ begging. "My fingerprints are all over the place... I was asked over... coffee..."

"Hands up on the wall, Finley," says Blakeman by way of reply. There are two uniformed cops near by now, who've been beckoned over.

John doesn't move.

"Hands up on the wall, Finley," repeats Blakeman more firmly. The two cops are pulling out their guns. He'd better do as they say. But he can't move. This isn't happening to him. This is what he'd do to others. Immobilize them. So they wouldn't be... dangerous... Is that what he is...? Dangerous?

He is shoved from behind suddenly and someone twists his arm tight behind his back. He cries out stupidly. Mainly out of surprise. He hasn't been expecting it. What has he been expecting? Not a face fall of wall that's for sure... as he's pushed up hard against the side of the house. Someone frisks him. They must have found it odd that he has no socks. And his left arm is pulled back too and his wrists are tied. And he's turned around sharply and nudged to indicate he should walk down the path... dazed... confused... nearly stumbling... only half aware of the two officers that grip each of his arms... towards Connors and Blakeman's car... people watching... faces... faces... staring... condemning... a press camera flashes... car doors open... 'get in' someone says... his head is held and he's guided in, to sit in the middle, in the rear... Connors and Blakeman join him on either side... the cops sit in front... the car starts... no one speaks... John wouldn't know what to say... this isn't happening... this just isn't happening to him...

-oAo-


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Alternative Reality I.

Lorne was gone now. Along with thirty six marines. And nearly the same number of techs and civilians. Rodney had shook hands, wished them all the best... Tried to get Lorne to change his mind... Listened to the Major's re-assurances that everything would be ok... Reminded Lorne of the secret signal he could send via the DHD if Lorne felt he needed to bail out at the last minute... Allowed the Major to pat him on the shoulder... And gloomily watched him disappear into the blue of the Gate.

There was a space now.

And Rodney had never thought it possible that he'd ever see the day when he would actually miss _Lorne_. But Sheppard had appointed the Major to look after the military side of things and... now... he was gone. Of course, Lorne still was, in effect, looking after things. So... there really was nothing to worry about... was there?

As soon as the Gate closed, Rodney was back in the Control Room, intent on getting Atlantis moved. So... he was occupied... and therefore... he didn't have to worry any more... about anything... it was all going to be ok...

Lorne had never been told their destination... just in case.... Lorne was tough but even he grimaced at the idea that he might be... well... the possibility couldn't be ignored... tortured...

They were heading for Athos.

A sort of poetic justice, Rodney thought... ending at the beginning...

But that was never the reason Athos was chosen. They, Rodney, Radek, Teyla, Ronon, Jenny, Chuck, Amelia, and a Corporal Sanders, in charge of the last half dozen marines who'd opted to stay... a sort of an unofficial council, had decided on Athos due to some sort of belief that it might be considered the last place anyone would come looking for them. It's close proximity to their existing site meant it would be practically under the noses of potential searchers. And personal experience had shown Rodney, from the numerous times he had mislaid pens, keys, scanners and the like, that the last place you think to look... is in your pocket all along...

And because Athos wasn't far, in relative terms, power consumption levels would be kept to an absolute minimum.

And Athos, they _knew_ would support them with ample water and food... food, that is, that guys from Earth could _actually_ eat...

Visitations from the Wraith had always been considered a problem for Athos but since the Hoffan disease had depleted Wraith numbers, especially in that locality of Pegasus, they were no longer deemed the threat they once had been.

_And _the idea was... to land Atlantis on... terra firma... not on a planet of oceans, but one that was comparatively land locked. Hopefully, a Pegasus wide search for Atlantis would take in all those big blue watery worlds and Athos would get overlooked.

It'd mean that Atlantis' equivalent of shock absorbers, that came into operation every time she was taken down to the ocean floor, had to be boosted and extended, but within an hour of Lorne leaving, any gremlins on that score had soon been eradicated.

Now, all that remained was for someone, namely Rodney, to, figuratively speaking, press the big red button that said 'go' and for Amelia, (who'd had some pretty fast training being the next one down the list with the natural ATA gene, and yes, it always galled Rodney that 'naturals' did that so much better, but he was never one to fly against the face of reality and hard facts, so he was happy to stand aside... on this particular occasion) to sit herself in the Chair and steer the thing.

It all went well.

No hitches. The euphoria of a successful take-off. The elation at the wide sweeping path, smooth through space with nothing for company except the passing stars... though, of course, it was Atlantis moving... not the stars. The acceleration of wormhole travel that barely lasted ninety seconds. Their time. The welcome of stars again. Cheers and smiles when they landed with the slightest of thuds. And it was good... energy levels for a space flight kept to an all time low. They'd have more than sufficient now to make an escape if need be... Or operate the cloak. Or the shield and drones... They were ready for whatever Earth had to throw at them... And hopefully, if Lorne was persuasive enough, that would be a reprieve...

Their arrival on Athos was the first thing that had gone right since Rodney had taken over command...

So then... why did he, when all the final safety checks had been completed, go and shut himself in his lab and watch the video of Sheppard for the hundredth time since it'd come into his possession?

-oAo-

AR. II.

John's hands were untied as he was processed: finger prints that left his fingers black and stained, photos that left him blinded, a swab taken from his cheeks for DNA, that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

In one of the corridors, they'd walked past Scarlett talking to a silvery headed elderly man. She'd looked up, only moderately surprised, and then nodded an acknowledgement of sorts, before returning her attention to the man, complaining about something. Probably forgetting John in an instant.

She must see all kinds during the course of the day... and they were all here... flotsam and jetsam of life... waiting their turn... for forms to be filled in, in triplicate... to have the contents of their pockets neatly bagged... to have their laces, belts and ties removed...

He didn't belong here.... he didn't belong here... and he wanted to... wanted to scream it out...

His hands were untied but a tight grip held on his left bi-cep by one of the officers as good as told him escape was very nearly impossible. Not that he would try. Nothing to be gained. Stay and give his honest explanation... that should work... nothing to fear... it'd be ok... they didn't shoot people in cells, after all... it'd be ok...

Did they know that he could though? Get out of here? Instinctively, he was eying up the security. Much of it seemed antiquated after Atlantis and Command and other military installations he'd come into contact with. Disarm the guy next to him... get his gun... he knew the moves... trained with the best, hadn't he?... Teyla... Ronon... and, well, half the success of that was always surprise... pick your moment... play stupid... play plain depressed and they'd think you weren't capable... and that wasn't difficult... acting depressed... and that was what was condemning him... a washed up military guy... Had he really let things get that bad?... Radek had seemed to think so...

But these guys weren't the enemy. Wraith, Genii, Replicators, Taliban, ori and go'auld even... they were the enemy... not these... They were guys just doing their jobs... same as he'd always done... he didn't belong here..

They finally sat him in a room. Stark and bare. Barred windows up high. A table. Four chairs. Two on either side. His officer stood over against a wall, just as Detective Blakeman entered. John watched him. Sitting, noisily scraping the chair, throwing a file two inches thick onto the table, opening it, sighing heavily, shaking his head, tut tutting, pulling out papers, a pen, hitching up jacket sleeves, ready to begin whatever it was he was ready to begin.

John leaned forward awkwardly, leaning elbows on the table. Playing with one cuff of his own jacket with his good hand. Noticing now... how grubby it was... Glancing at the officer, uncertain if it were allowed. To relax. A little.

Detective Blakeman flicked on the recording device that sat on the table.

Gave his name, number, the date. Interrogation of John Finley. A date of birth. Address. Occupation, adding to that, retired, military. A case serial number. The homicides of three guys John had never heard of. Another case serial number. Deirdre Spencer. Jane Spencer.

John leaned forward even further to speak into the machine.

"I didn't do it."

Blakeman stopped and stared at him for a second, for a moment taken aback. Then gathered himself and coughed into a fist before speaking.

"Wait there, John, I have to read you this first..."

John. Calling him John again. As if they were best buddies. He hated it. Remembering that even Rodney had seldom called him John.

"John Finley. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read out to you?"

John nodded.

"Can you state 'yes' for the recorder?"

"Yes."

"Do you need an attorney?"

"No."

"Certain of that?" Blakeman was mildly surprised. "Usually not considered a good idea."

And John even had no intention of calling Lennox. Though he imagined that Lennox already knew where he was. The transmitter would be showing that on some guy's monitor somewhere loud and clear. And that thought annoyed him... but Lennox possibly had the leverage to get him out of this mess. Though he'd still liked to think it was his innocence that would do that for him. Before he called in the cavalry. It was sorta a matter of principle.

"I'm sure... because... I didn't do it..."

"I'm supposed to ask you something else... with these rights in mind, do you wish to speak with me?" He looked at John prompting the 'yes' he was expecting.

And then, John said it again. "I didn't do it."

"Yeah, I've got the idea now, John," replied Blakeman, shuffling papers.

"You don't even have a weapon," pointed out John. He was assuming that. They might have found one now. "Not one _I've_ used," he added.

"We're in the process of searching your home again, more thoroughly this time, and a sweep is being made of the whole neighbourhood."

"You think I've hidden it close by?" Yeah. It'd be more useful that way.

"Can you leave the questions to me, John?"

John ignored him. "So this is all based on some premise that I'm ex-military and know how to kill... God, Blakeman, so does every cop in this damned building!" He was getting angry now and could sense the officer fidgeting behind him out of the corner of his eye. Blakeman tried to get a word in edge ways but John was there before him. "Oh, and I drink... am supposed to drink... what percentage of the general population does that include, I wonder."

Blakeman simply countered that with a wooden expression and officialese.

"We've put in a request for your full military records... any psychiatric reports... any evidence of post traumatic stress..." of which drinking would be seen as a symptom. John knew that. But they were never going to get those reports. Not in a million years. And he slumped back in his chair... Was he really that bad that someone would think he'd cracked up so much as to insanely kill?...

"I didn't do it... those ladies... they were friends... I went round there for cake and tea..." probably something he wouldn't normally admit to.... "They brought me round home-made cake. Why would I... want to murder them?"

"But what about the three guys in the car? Until it is verified all five appear to have been shot with the same gun on the same night... the night you admitted when we visited you, that you couldn't account for. So, for the record, John, can you tell me again what you were doing on the night of the killings, from about eight o'clock?"

John sighed and reeled it all out. "Got a take away, watched some TV, fell asleep on the sofa."

"And on the TV... I recall that you said you thought that you watched a re-run of Star Trek but couldn't be specific..."

"No."

"When we asked, no neighbours could verify whether you'd been at home or not."

"Well, obviously the Spencers couldn't..."

"No."

"And none of you guys noticed the door not latched?"

"It must have worked lose in the wind. Remember I said I was supposed to ask the questions. But the neighbours did say you often went out most nights, for about an hour and assumed you must have gone out _that_ night."

"Well, I didn't."

"Except to get the take out... what time was that?"

"About seven." He guessed it was close enough.

"Where was that?" Blakeman was taking notes now. They hadn't asked all this the other day.

"Thai. Along Silverman Street." Not far from Quarry Road. Incriminating himself or what? But he was hoping that if he came clean, they'd see he really had nothing to hide.

"Paid by card?" So they could check.

"Yeah."

"Where do you normally go, for that hour in the evening, John?"

"Walk. Down on the beach." What had that to do with anything? "You wondering if there's other bodies you could pin on me?"

John was ignored.

"So... slept there on the sofa all night, John?" Blakeman had guessed. John had never said.

"Yes."

"And that's because you'd been drinking?"

"Yes."

"Often drink yourself to sleep, John?" _Drink yourself senseless..._

John didn't reply immediately. He leaned forward again and brought his hands up over his mouth. "Yes," he said, so quietly, to be almost inaudible.

"Could you repeat that?"

"Yes."

"Why is that? Depressed?"

John didn't reply. He supposed he was digging himself in deeper again. Blakeman was after a state of mind. A depressed guy going off the rails.

"You not going to answer?"

John shook his head. He couldn't answer. He didn't _know_ the answer. Was he depressed? He supposed... he was...

"For the record, mind saying 'no' when you shake your head?"

"No," he choked out.

Blakeman shrugged. "You have the right to remain silent, of course. You going to answer any more questions?"

John numbly nodded.

"Can you say 'yes' please?"

"Yes," though he imagined that can't be heard either. He rubbed his face. And looked down at the floor, running his hand through his hair. A thumping headache now and light-headedness... He'd still not had anything to drink since dawn... and nothing to eat...

"Can I... have a drink... water?"

"You not feeling well?"

"Didn't get breakfast."

Blakeman nods to the officer who orders water on an intercom on the wall by the door.

"You want to stop?"

"I didn't think I got the choice."

"We can stop if you're not feeling well."

"I'm fine." He wasn't about to show weakness and give in that easily.

"The other day..." and Blakeman began to read from the files, "your friend, Radek Jaworski was present and hinted that your drinking problem would hinder any firing of a weapon on your part-"

"-I haven't got a drinking problem."

"Hey, I'm trying to help you here..."

"No, you're not... you're trying to get me to say that I was so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing... that I could have killed the Spencers and not remembered... I fell asleep on the sofa... slept all night there... and that's where I woke up the next morning. Period."

"So, to make this clear, you telling me that you could have fired a gun... and that the hand injury incurred whilst serving in the Air Force, wouldn't incapacitate you, either." And he referred to his notes again. "On the first search of your home, we found a handgun on your premises, recently fired for target practice, you claimed, that would suggest that was the case. And the injured hand was the left and you are right handed?"

John nodded, and promptly added 'yes'... just for the record. "But I might not have hit the target?"

"There was a damaged section of baseboard in the upstairs bedroom, my colleague, Detective Connors noticed... could have been firearms damage... forensic will get that checked out. You usually carry out target practice in a bedroom?"

"Kinda strange. Yeah." He shrugged. But damn, what was he saying? He bit his lip.

"Kinda strange? You weren't drunk and the gun went off accidentally? Without you even knowing?"

"No."

"What were you aiming at, John, if not the baseboard?"

"A bottle. What else? You know, like in the Westerns." He was being flippant and leaned back in the chair. Hoping to bluff his way out of this.

"You weren't depressed and tried taking you're own life or... changed your mind... or missed?"

Detective Blakeman was trying that angle again.

John leaned forward, serious again.

"Even if I were _depressed _as you keep saying... I. Would. Not. Kill. Those. Ladies. Understand?" But Detective Blakeman wasn't to be so easily put off.

"What about the guys in the car? I could understand you being angry at them? Aren't you trained in the military to be angry with the enemy... makes it easier to kill, doesn't it? Perhaps you were angry with the ladies... wouldn't leave you alone..."

"I wasn't angry with anyone... I called you guys because I'd gone round the Spencers place because I was _concerned- _"

"-In the middle of the night? Couldn't it have waited till morning?" Once again, Blakeman was trying to make out he wasn't acting normally, that he was like some washed up wacko...

"Something was banging in the wind... something was damaged... they weren't there... I thought... I was going round there to fix it... I was concerned for them.... Would I have done that if I'd killed them?"

"Doesn't always make much difference... not if you couldn't remember killing them..."

"So what are you saying here? I was so out of it, that I could coldly and calculatedly walk round there, have the sense to tie them up and then shoot them straight through the head? And then calmly make it look like a burglary... not exactly the wild rampage of a madman, was it? The same with the guys... I didn't even know them... I didn't even know who they were... You guys know a whole lot more than I did... I wouldn't even have known where to begin looking for them..."

"Only your word for it... You're the link, John. Two cases. On the face of it, completely unrelated. But... same calibre gun... likely to be the same gun once confirmed... same method... and both sets of victims, completely unconnected with one another... punks and two nice ladies... but... connected by you, John... You're the common link, John. _And_... the guys were drug pushers too... they'd been dealing that evening.... perhaps they were known to you... perhaps this is nothing to do with extortion... perhaps you were the guy they were dealing with... perhaps you were high on something when you killed the ladies... perhaps in your head... you were back in Iraq?... perhaps you weren't even seeing two nice ladies who brought round cake... that's how you're trained, isn't it? So you kill, automatically, without thinking, when ordered..."

He was feeling angry again. But he mustn't rise to the bait. He mustn't show it. That would condemn him further. He forced out words through gritted teeth.

"None of that is true."

"I'm ordering blood tests."

"You won't find anything. Anyway, I was in the Air force... flew choppers... rescue missions... the gun was only if we got shot down... you make it sound like I was in special ops or something..." He might as well lie... it was the official line now... Lennox had wanted no hint in his records of anything Atlantis related.

The buzzer sounded at the door. The officer went and answered it and came back to the table with a paper cup and bottled water. John unscrewed the lid and poured himself drink. He couldn't believe how good water could taste... once on a planet... they'd run out of water... twenty four hours across rocky terrain... separated from the Jumper by a band of Wraith hunting them down... had to keep moving... and then they came to a stream... that had been good too... even Teyla had thrown etiquette to the winds, drinking so thirstily... and... and even here... even here, in this cell, he can't keep the memories away...

The buzzer at the door again. And the officer let in Detective Connors who remained standing in the doorway, beckoning Blakeman over. Blakeman switched off the recorder, first announcing the time. They talked just outside in the corridor with the door half closed. John couldn't pick out any words... until, that is, Blakeman shouted out-

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Voice down... no... it's true...."

"Nothing?! Both of them?!"

"Yeah. The teams have been called in now..."

Blakeman seemed to explode back into the room, slamming down both hands flat on the table, leaning into John's face, so John leaned back... uncertain that Blakeman might even hit him. He was sure that Blakeman wanted to. Now who's angry enough to kill?

"Your kind make me sick, you know that?!"

"Sir?" queried the officer coming away from the wall. He was here to defend the cop not the prisoner... _usually._

Blakeman looked up to his officer. "We have to let him go!" he explained. "Orders from high up." Lennox. "So that's why you didn't want a goddamned attorney! Knew you didn't need one, huh! Thought you'd enjoy a little run around at my expense till the call came through! Bet you've been really laughing at me in that wacko head of your's-"

"No-"

"-Both fucking cases are to be shut. We can't touch them... Think that as good as says you did it! So... what are you on?... Some sort of witness protection scheme? You guys are bastards! You go round committing crimes and then turn evidence on your buddies, and commit more and think.... no, not think, _know _you can get away with it! Get out of here! Go! Scram! Before I do something I'll regret!"

The officer had John by the arm again, assisting him out of the chair, out of the room.

"Blakeman! It wasn't me, honest! Believe me, will you? I didn't do it!"

"Oh please! My heart bleeds! All that shit about saving guys lives in Iraq! You really are a piece of shit! You know that?! A piece of shit?! And I don't care if you make a complaint... I just don't fucking care!! Get out!" And now Blakeman was shouting down the corridor, and faces turned to see what the commotion was all about, as the officer lead John away, who nearly stumbled, looking over his shoulder, trying to plead with Blakeman, but was too far away now...

And Connors was trying to persuade Blakeman to calm down by holding his arm. But Blakeman pulled his arm free and wouldn't be reasoned with. His voice filled the whole corridor. His every word emphasized with a pointed finger.

"But you just watch yourself, Finley, or whatever your damned name is! You take care! You hear! I'll get you! I'll get you one day! And that's a fucking promise!"

-oAo-


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Alternative Reality I.

Rodney figures that they have anything from two weeks to never before the Apollo shows up.

And he isn't certain which end of that scale is the most scary.

'Never' means they are probably here, on Athos, for the rest of their natural lives...

Though, like the two weeks scenario, plans to stay forever have already been put into operation. Their topmost priority is to conserve power. And very nearly on the same level of importance is to keep a quantity of food and water on Atlantis in case of emergencies... no more Daedalus delivery runs with unlimited supplies of coffee, he remembers with a grimace.

Power conservation is not a problem. They simply turn off all the lights and the decision is made to live in one tower only. Water, derived from the nearby lake, still has to be filtered, but no longer has to be desalinated... so a saving there. Of course, the sewerage plant has to be kept running... another grimace... that he has to concern himself with such problems...

It had been suggested by Ronon and Teyla that perhaps they should live in tents and use Atlantis as simply one big space ship... but if an attack comes... whether its Apollo or Wraith... and it was the young Ford-like Corporal Sanders who'd come up with the argument... they wouldn't have the time to get people off the ground and into the city for safety... even more so now they've been joined by Teyla's people... like old times... having sweet little Athosian children running around... screaming... interfering... no... it really is good... community spirit and all that... refugees altogether... And the Athosians know where to hunt, fish, find herbs for Jenny, teach her herbal medicine... So groups are now organised to find food... prepare it... and because the Athosians also know where salt can be mined and know how to ferment wines and vinegars, food can be salted and pickled... soon they will have no use for the giant freezers that consume energy on Atlantis by the megawatt.

In return, Atlantis gives the Athosians protection from the Wraith. And Halling has said he is prepared to fight against the Apollo if necessary but believes... forever the eternal optimists these Athosians... it won't ever come to that.

And Atlantis is giving them something else... unprecedented... perhaps it needed the rule of Dr. Rodney McKay to have the foresight... Jenny is giving them the ATA gene vaccination... though it's known that a very high proportion will actually reject it... but they need to replenish the list of those able to operate the Chair and the Jumpers... too many ATA gene holders left with the marines... so far they have an additional three... but that is better than nothing, says Radek. Better than they expected...

So they are ready... or as ready as they're ever going to be... for now... or forever.... and anything in between... but... is Rodney?

He is walking round the perimeter of the lake just after nightfall. It is something that he takes pleasure in now, to walk here at the water's edge... though he can't explain why... he never would have done...

Sheppard would have liked it... They could have drunk beers here together...

Time.

He has time now to do such things. Take a stroll. And it's always been something that Jenny tells him he must do more often... exercise... well, she should try it... running... with Wraith, genii, some tribe hot on your heels... one ten minute spell of that till your lungs are splitting fit to burst is really enough exercise for a fella for one whole year, he's convinced of that...

The water is calm and silvery, catching the light of a full moon and the yellow twinkling from the one lit tower of Atlantis. She always did look... prettier at night... and this is a scientist's opinion...

Though even more so now... as the night conceals the enormous bulky ballasts that sit exposed beneath the piers, that would ordinarily be hidden, submerged under the sea. The first work of Engineering was to dismantle the metal stairways of one of the redundant towers and re-attach them to Atlantis' lower sides to provide an easy means to access the ground. There was already a former underwater Jumper entrance but only the one. He and Radek were working on a scheme to extend a couple of transporters to those levels, because stairways are ok going down... but coming back up fifty steps with armfuls of water buffalo or whatever it is that Ronon and Halling keep bringing home these days isn't much fun...

And when the transporters are finished, what then, for Rodney? What will 'forever' mean for Rodney?

The shadows of nearby undergrowth mirror dark in darker waters... fish plop the water catching the flies that come out at dusk... leaving concentric rings, just visible... ever increasing circles...

But this is his life... ever _decreasing _circles... his world has suddenly shrunk... the life of a villager... millions of miles from Earth... this is his 'forever'... soon there will be no scientific problems to sort out... and already he knows he can say goodbye to the accolades... the Nobel Prize that had always been elusive, was now slipping away... forever... He should be content... for despite the threats they face... this is idyllic... this is paradise... he has Jenny... and so many children that now call him Uncle Rodney... But his world has shrunk... there are faces he'll see no more... for whatever reason... and it's forever... his sister, Jeanie... his friend, Carson... his colleague, Woolsey... all at Stargate Command... And Sheppard...

Though he sees Sheppard everyday... but not in the way that he'd like to...

'Hands forward.'

'Shouldn't it be hands back, guys?'

The way he doesn't fight back... when they strike him down to the ground... the way he won't escape... when the door is wide open.... the way he is pushed to the wall... the way the gun is forced against his jaw... the way he looks to the camera... as if... as if... appealing to Rodney... the way his body jerks with each successive shot...

'Don't look at it, Rodney,' begs Teyla. 'Why do you torture yourself? And what if one of the children comes in and sees it. Destroy it, Rodney. It serves no purpose now.'

Even Teyla believes they may be here forever...

There is no going back now. And to Rodney it feels like... there is no going forward either... life should progress... a line going onwards... but it feels like... and he looks at the lake... a river silting up... sluggish... Is this how his days are going to be? Afternoon following morning? Evening following afternoon? Sleep following evening? Morning following sleep. A straight line of predictability?

He needs a project... to occupy his mind...

Time.

He needs to figure out, perhaps, how to reverse time... to get Sheppard back... but the idea is daunting... quite honestly... if he is truthful... he doesn't know where to begin... Sheppard had said... when he came back from the future... that it had taken Rodney twenty five years to work things out... And Rodney is thinking again... could he devote his life so slavishly to that one thing?... He owed it to Jenny not to... and in the future, it had been Jenny dying apparently that had spurred him on... so now... is it Sheppard dying that should spur him on also?

Circles … his mind is going round in circles...

They might only be here two weeks. And they're constantly asking themselves the questions... What's happening to Lorne? And if the Apollo is dispatched, will it pick Lorne up first and then look for them? Or return to Earth with Lorne and then come? Or bypass Lorne altogether, and come straight for them?

No answers. But one thing is certain... Rodney will not fight... They would run again... He's never been so sure of anything in his whole life... No matter how much Ronon rumbles on... No way is Rodney going to have the blood of another Daedalus on his hands... He's even threatened to padlock the Chair Room... put the most complicated security system known to man on the door... he's even gotten... angry... They knew he meant it... A council meeting... his decision... that was never voted on... not democratic but he didn't particularly care... He just wasn't going to have a repeat of last time...

So... what _did _happen last time? What exactly did Teyla experience? And why has he never asked the question before? It had to be some sort of imprint, Rodney surmised, if that was at all possible... an imprint left over from Sheppard's time in Atlantis...

Sheppard's time...

But when did Sheppard ever fire on an _alien _ship? Wraith, yes. But never alien. And Teyla saw Atlantis falling... the same as described by Sam in her vision, courtesy of the Seer... which everyone had assumed was the future... an attack either from Wraith or Replicator... Teyla had said she'd heard Woolsey speaking... and at the time the Seer was in Atlantis, Woolsey was, indeed, present on Atlantis also... but at that time, Sheppard had sat in the Chair ready to fire at _Wraith_... not aliens... it was all confusing...

Teyla must have gone into some sort of dream mode... Her memory of Sheppard's injuries and of him being in pain in the Chair, some sort of empathy with Sheppard's experiences in the cell... And Rodney didn't want to think about that...

Symbolic, Teyla had said... but Teyla had been quite specific... his hand... his left hand burnt... What was symbolic in that?... 'I can touch him almost and he is in pain...' and... and... she says she is doing that now... she is still able to sense him... it is nothing to do with the Chair...

Ghosts.

Hello?... This is Rodney McKay... Don't believe in ghosts, remember?

But why the feeling... why the feeling that he shares with Teyla?... every time he walks down an Atlantis corridor... that Sheppard is there... and... hurting... not physical hurt... but... that hurt... that same hurt that Sheppard had felt when Rodney had wanted to feed himself to the Wraith... that same hurt when Sheppard had been forced to commit that mercy kill on Colonel Sumner... that same hurt experienced when they lost, first Ford and then Elizabeth... that same hurt when they had all thought that Teyla had been lost to Michael... that same hurt when Sheppard had looked back at Atlantis for the last time...

Why can't the ghost of Sheppard rest in peace?

And Teyla in the Chair... that wasn't Sheppard's revenge... Sheppard was never like that...

Dare Rodney think it?... Dare he make such a supposition?... Sheppard is trying to come back... be with them again... be re-united?... The bond had been so very strong... a link between the living and the dead... no... no... Rodney McKay doesn't think like this... he's rational... he thinks in straight lines and life never crosses such boundaries... he's rational... life is all straight lines... none of the blurry edges, none of the misty, indecipherable world of the supernatural, the metaphysical...

But then... Rodney had better get his butt going and work out this time travel thing...

...for the bond had been so very strong...

...the link...

...straight lines... like railway tracks... two railway tracks... Sheppard on one... they're on the other.... hands reaching out... not quite touching... so close... so close... they can feel his pain... touching... not quite... but nearly... lines running parallel... parallel...

...parallel realities... God!...

Teyla saw Sheppard firing on an alien ship because he _had _been firing on an alien ship.

Sheppard's left hand was seen to be injured because it _had_ been injured.

Hello, Rodney?! Alternative reality here! _Reality._ With the emphasis on _real, _huh? No ghosts. _Real._

And Rodney turns abruptly back to Atlantis, nearly running...

-oAo-

AR. II.

Scarlett and Pooch got to give him a lift.

"Get in," said Scarlett bluntly, indicating the back of the patrol car, as she took the passenger seat beside Pooch. "We've been told to take you to a hotel," she added, once they were all seated and Pooch was manoeuvring them out of the car pool area. "Apparently, someone doesn't want your picture all over the news... nice of them, huh? To think of you?"

Why was he finding it so difficult to take her sarcasm? Normally he could have given her like for like. "O'Hara-"

"-Of course, it's also for your own protection... those ladies were highly thought of... when mobs get something into their heads... like there's some pervert living on their doorstep... there's no telling what could happen.... oh... and we've been told you tell you that you mustn't worry about clothes and stuff... some CIA type went to your place and got some things... they'll be at the hotel... like I said... nice of them..."

"O'Hara... I didn't do any of this." Hell, he wish he had a dollar for every time he'd said that now.

"Oh, we're fine with this, aren't we?" And her partner nodded as he made a left turn. "Innocent until proven guilty, that's us..."

"I _am_ innocent-"

"Yeah... that's why we being told to close the case..."

"Look at me, O'Hara." He knew he looked rough, unshaven and shook up. But surely she would be able to see it. Surely she could see it in his eyes. That's all he had... No argument. Just himself. Pure and simple. Held in his eyes. "Look at me..." and she does. Briefly. Only briefly though. Turning back before she sees too much and has to change her mind. But she's seen him...

"Do I look like the kind of guy who goes round..."

He trailed off and leaned forward... didn't know why... straining on the seat belt, to touch her arm, to plead some more, he guessed. Her opinion of him, the opinion of any cop was important to him. They were supposed to be on the same side, weren't they?

She turned around alarmed, virtually reaching for her firearm. "Sit back, sir! Touching of the guys in the front isn't permitted, you know!"

He stared at her for a second. Uncomprehending that he can't win her over... though he had, in that split second... but had lost her again.

"No... course not..."

He was getting nowhere. And slumped back into his seat. To enjoy the ride? Conversation was going to be nothing but frosty - and pointless.

Though O'Hara hadn't given up on her side of things just yet.

"The room's booked under the name of John Devlin. So..." peering up through the windscreen at some tall buildings they were passing, no doubt, they were approaching the hotel. "You weren't really called John Finley?"

He hesitated. Was he allowed to reveal that? But for a moment she seemed genuinely interested.

"No," he confessed quietly... because suddenly inside... he wanted to tell her who he really was... wanted to tell her all about John Sheppard... _who he really was_... what it was, he represented... what he _liked_ to think he represented... to try and convince her...

"Doesn't matter... scum by any other name is still scum..." She was hurting him... she didn't know how much she was hurting him... they might as well find some alley and beat the crap out of him... turn him over to this mob... it wouldn't hurt half as much...

'A warrior by any other name, who remains strong in the face of adversity, is still a warrior,' Todd had written.

And how many times had Todd been at the receiving end of this sort of thing?... Dished out by Atlantis? By Colonel Sheppard? One day... he was going to have to apologise to that Wraith...

"It's a shame..." as the car pulled up, "you seemed like a nice guy..."

He said nothing. Resolved to take it all. And got out the car, without being asked.

"But there... it's not important now..." he heard O'Hara say through the open car window.

He turned to her, before walking across the sidewalk to the hotel's entrance. "It is... to me."

-oAo-

AR. I.

"It would have to be strong, you see, to leach through like that."

Rodney was explaining his theory. To a packed audience... it felt that way in Teyla's quarters with, Teyla and Tagan, Jenny, Ronon and Amelia all present. And they were staring at him, well, the adults were... as if he were crazy.

Perhaps he was. To suggest that they go and collect another Sheppard from another reality... purely on the surmise... or is that premise?... of some sort of... what was it... psychic displacement?... Of hurt. Pain. For the want of a better term... yes, psychic displacement would do... but Rodney talking in those terms? Never in a million years... But Rodney proposing to act because of them?... again... stretching incredulity beyond its limits... but he was suggesting this... And he wasn't crazy... as far as he could tell... but was serious, deadly serious...

"And close... it would have to be close... I'm talking... millionths of nanometres here... unimaginably close... so close, his reality would be in every respect the same as ours... so close... we'd be like... like pieces of a jigsaw..." and he held up a hand to somehow explain it, but dropped it again, failing.

Teyla looked the most horrified.

"You cannot interfere like this."

"Interfere?"

"Yes. My experience... Tagan's experience may have been..." and she doesn't want to say... "John's afterlife... Yes, it would be interfering in something we do not understand."

Jenny moved her head in agreement.

"No... no... that's it... you don't understand... it's not ghosts... _it's real_... don't you see?... and..." and now _he _didn't want to say. Didn't want to confess this. Was hoping he didn't have to. "I've felt it too... along the corridors... and whenever I see... I know this seems stupid... whenever I see the aschatee."

"You have?" And this was Jenny looking, surprised and shocked, because this is the first she'd heard, and yes, he supposed, he should have told his wife... and just not come out in public like this... and he was going to pay for that later... but if he couldn't persuade these guys... then he might as well give up...

Jenny recovered. "Rodney, this is just grief. You're just missing the guy. You keep watching the video... and you're possibly in a state of shock still after the Daedalus."

"No. No. It's more than that... it's the feeling... the feeling... that he needs... rescuing. Don't you see... he needs _rescuing_... hmm? Hmmm?" He was looking at each individual's face in turn. Not convinced that he'd convinced them. Until his glance fell on Ronon, propped up against the wall, arms folded, studying the floor. Who looked up then...

"You mentionned the aschatee?"

Rodney nodded.

"Oh, don't, Ronon! Don't encourage him! Please!" demanded Jenny. She saw his face though and knew he was earnest. "Oh, that's right! Might have known, you fellas always stick together!"

"But... I think what he says... is true... you want me to keep quiet if I think it's true?" Ronon straightened up and walked over to the window to lean against one side there, refolding his arms... gazing out into the darkness beyond. He appeared reluctant to speak. "I was out hunting the other day... in the forest... a bird flew out of cover... I nearly shot it... it was one of the aschatee." And Rodney imagined that must have been pretty scary... with their ginormous wingspan and body mass it must have been like two Wraith jumping out of the undergrowth. Well, to Rodney that would have been scary...

The aschatee. The pair nesting in the towers. Had come with them. Accidentally. Through the wormhole. Trapped under the shield. They'd been concerns for them but they'd survived.

"It turned on me... screaming... I held up my hands to protect my face." And he looked down at his hands. "And then it was gone... but in the confusion... in that one moment... I saw the sea... its where the aschatee belongs, I thought... not here in the forest, by the lake... but I saw the sea still... a beach... Sheppard walking along the beach.... alone... he was alone... and... hurting... just for a moment that's what I saw... I just thought..." And he shrugged... "I'd tell you that. Make of it what you will... "

"It was symbolic... a vision..." suggested Teyla but with something in her tone that was desperate to believe that.

"Teyla. You know me. I don't have them. I'm no Seer. I don't pretend to be... Also..."

And they're all looking at him, including Tagan, apparently enthralled by Ronon's story telling, and he moves his feet self-consciously.

"It was... Earth. There were cars in a parking lot nearby..."

"Are you sure?!" exclaimed Rodney, disbelieving, because, not only did that ninety nine per cent prove his idea... but it'd thrown him a locality, co-ordinates to start looking in, to boot.

"Yes. I noticed them because... there is nothing like that in Pegasus. It was not an afterlife. Not a vision. It felt like... you know... _now_."

Teyla stands suddenly. "Ronon... don't..."

"It's what I saw, Teyla, I'm sorry..."

She turns on Rodney again. Her face contorted with... well, it was anguish. "You don't know what you are doing, Rodney... you do not understand what you may be getting into... please, I beg you... not to do this... I could not accept another John... no one could replace the father of my children... no one..."

"Oh no... no Teyla... That's not why I'm doing this. I'm not expecting him to finish where our Sheppard left off. I can't imagine that this other Sheppard could ever replace ours... no one could... I really do agree... no... I told you... He needs rescuing... He just needs rescuing... What from, I'm not sure... At this point, I'm really not sure..."

-oAo-

AR. II.

A holdall sat on the bed of the hotel room. His phone beside it. That bleeped the moment he stepped through the door.

The text said: Phone back. Lennox.

He did as instructed. Remembering the four magic numbers. Despite longing for a shower. Despite longing... for a drink... There was a small hotel fridge under a desk. But he imagined they'd know he hadn't reacted right away... and he didn't want to offend these guys... oh no...

"Hi. It's me."

"Sheppard."

"I guess I need to thank you for hauling me out of there..." He hated saying thanks to these guys, but... he really was thankful.

"Don't mention it... You found your gear, ok?"

"Yeah."

" 'Fraid we're going to have to move you on again... get you another identity."

"I heard. John Devlin?"

"Yeah. If you need anything else out of the house, make a list. We'll get it packed for you and send it on."

"Thanks. I'd rather stay put though... I suppose I haven't any say?"

"No. We wish you'd take that desk job in Washington. It'd save us a whole lot of trouble."

To give these guys trouble would be one reason not to take it.

"Why did you close the case? Why won't you let the local cops get to the bottom of this? They're not happy."

"Don't worry about it."

"You're not thinking I did it?"

"No." Lennox didn't sound sincere. But then, he never did... about anything.

"You think it's just a coincidence there were five murders connected with me? You either think you know who committed them, or you know that someone was trying to set me up?" Or both.

"Don't worry about it... it's getting dealt with..."

"I liked the Spencers... I think I _am_ going to worry about it... a lot... and perhaps I'm being selfish here, but I'd like to clear my name... though I know its not _really_ my name-"

"-John. Forget it. Chill out till we come and collect you. But don't leave the building. Hotel tab's on us. Get back to you in a couple of days."

And Lennox rang off.

John tossed the phone back down on the bed. Stared at it and then went to the window, drawing aside some white gauzy curtains. The room overlooked the street. If he were being watched by Lennox's men, which he thought was a strong possibility, they'd be a car parked, or a guy standing... somewhere... He spotted it. A car. Down a side street. Two guys. They're always in pairs. They really intended to go to all this trouble to safeguard the Stargate Programme? Why? They thought he was so incapable of looking after himself? Dammit, he'd only lost the use of three fingers... though... saying that... he hadn't made a very good job of it so far...

Or... they really think he wouldn't keep quiet?

More people who didn't know the real John Sheppard. And he intended to put that right.

He wondered if they'd be someone else round the back? Because one thing was certain, he wasn't going to stay cooped up here for two days solid. Even if it was only prove to them, that he could actually give them the slip. He might as well have stayed in a prison cell. So what was he going to do? Firstly, shower and have a drink... just one. Have a drink, just one, and a shower... And somewhere in there, get some food... Ring for room service... it was free apparently...

-oAo-


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Alternative Reality I.

And, of course, Radek has something to say on the matter too. And naturally, all the arguments that Radek puts forward are perfectly valid... Rodney knows that... but won't admit it...

Like...

"But there are so many alternate realities! There must be so many Colonel Sheppards! You intend to put all these right?!"

Or...

"How can you possibly play at God like this?!"

And then...

"Colonel Carter always said you must not interfere with time lines!"

"This is not interfering with time lines... this is... a... a... side step.... the tiniest little side step... that is all. That's all it is." And Rodney holds up a hand and demonstrates just how tiny with a thumb and forefinger. "And... I'm only after this one... if I can save just this one..."

"What? What Rodney?" and Radek pulls a sour crooked face, "then your conscience will be cleared? Rodney! The Daedalus was an _accident_!"

Rodney continues to work at his desk, leaving Radek still standing in the lab doorway. He won't be dissuaded. Not now. Not now this idea is in his head. And really... this isn't to ease guilty feelings over the Daedalus... it really isn't...

"It's only one..." he mutters stubbornly, trying not to look in Radek direction... he won't be dissuaded, "and he's there... just there... I know it... I feel it..."

He's working two laptops together... and leans over one to reach the other... and somehow, with the movement, his flash drive falls loose out of his collar and clatters down noisily onto the keyboard. He slips it quickly beneath his shirt again, glancing up at Radek as he does so, but Radek knows of the drive... the two of them share this lab... and Radek has come upon Rodney so many times lately to discover Rodney watching a screen...

"It is like the albatross around your neck," murmurs the Czech with some sympathy, "a burden... but... you do not have to bear this, Rodney... you did not kill Colonel Sheppard... you did not kill the Daedalus..."

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner? Radek knew it? The Mariner who shot the bird of good omen and was condemned to carry its body tied around his neck? Rodney fingers the drive beneath the fabric of his tee and simply looks at Radek dumbly, unable for once in his life to come up with any sort of reply. Why does Radek think the drive round his neck is some sort of guilt thing?

'You wanna go and persuade these guys?' Sheppard had asked of Rodney... and Rodney hadn't... so he'd let Sheppard go...

And suddenly, Radek changes tack, screeching at him again in pure exasperation, pacing the room, gesticulating wildly "You cannot _do_ this! It is suicidal!"And then shakes his head and mutters something in Czech... that translates as freaking disbelief.

"And how is that?!" retorts McKay, finding voice again.

"It is a way of suicide... it will kill your life... it will take you a lifetime to discover and eliminate all the possibilities... and... and... it will consume inordinate amounts of power... and I have not even begun to remind you of the dangers involved... the creation of exotic particles... entrophy... you are essentially, deliberately opening up a rift..."

"Yeah... yeah... yeah... ripping the fabric of the universe and all that... I know... I know..." like the time they had attempted to extract energy from subspace time from a parallel universe using Jeanie's bridge theory... and Rodney waves a dismissive hand at him and returns his attention back to his laptops. "But you recall... when the Wraith sent an SOS from the alternate Earth... it was just such a small hole... large enough for the communication only... no entrophy... I intend to open up a rift so small that will only permit through one person... just the one... and it'll only be for one time only... just the once..."

Radek looks at him blankly. He cannot comprehend that Rodney could be so crazy. But Rodney would go crazy if he didn't do anything. If he kept thinking about that video... watching it... helpless to come to Sheppard's aid... He was going to do something positive now... he could stop thinking about the video and think about this instead... he could forget about Caldwell and the Daedalus... and that had to be a good thing... other men might turn to drinking... to forget what was troubling them... Rodney could lose himself in his work...

"I had considered altering time lines," he explains, "like Sheppard had said I'd done before... in the future... but that _had_ taken me a lifetime... this way... this way... we have all the necessary equipment in place... " mothballed in the lower reaches of Atlantis, "it just needs a little tweaking... sort out the old algorithms... iron the wrinkles..." and he is so close... "it won't take me long... minimal disruption."

Radek just stands there. Blinking behind his thick glasses.

"Rodney... you have not considered this fully... this Colonel Sheppard... you are expecting him to... help us? You are expecting a replacement? Same for same? And... if you are ever successful in locating him... which is doubtful... how can you ever be so certain that he... Rodney... he may not actually _wish_ to return..."

"He may not want to return?" and it's Rodney's turn to look blank. "Of course, he will! Don't be so ridiculous!"

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. Why can you be so certain he would want to come?"

"You wouldn't understand..."

"Try me." And Radek holds his head to one side, like encouraging a small child...

He couldn't explain. Lines. That twisted, touched, a cable of lines, like optic fibres, touching, so close, so close, one strand away... so... close... they were practically breathing the same air... like... like the other side of a mirror... no closer... a reflection... so close as to be the same... but slight nuances... slight differences... but like an equation... balanced... that was his theory... jumbled up in his brain... he couldn't explain it... so close they could feel his hurt... so close they could _all _feel him... and the equation... they had lost a Sheppard... so it was the natural correlation then that this Sheppard had lost Atlantis... that's why Teyla had seen all the destruction... and this Sheppard had probably lost everyone in it too... but Rodney knew it was just a feeling... at the end of the day... that's all it was... no concrete facts and figures... nothing he could quantify... a theory only... and yet... he was more certain of this than anything else in his whole life... perhaps... perhaps he _was_ going crazy...

"It's lines... he's in the next reality over... once removed... so close he just has to be similar, no... the _same_ as our Sheppard... therefore... he would want to come... he would want to come... don't you see?" And this Sheppard was hurting... why would anyone _want_ that sort of hurt to continue...

"You are talking like an idiot... " Well, that's what Rodney assumes is the correct translation of the Czech expletives that Radek murmurs.

Radek is looking to the wall, probably trying his hardest to think of something else, anything else to persuade Rodney to stop this stupid idea.

Rodney knows his reply is flimsy, won't stand up to scrutiny. "Ok... it's just a hunch..." he adds.

"Oh Rodney!" And Radek rolls his eyes, even more exasperated. "This is not rational!... This is not science!" And he throws his arms up in the air. "It is pure... _emotion! _"

"Yes. Yes. It is, isn't it?..." says Rodney quietly, staring at his laptop, but seeing nothing on the screen. "But does that matter any more?... Does that honestly matter anymore? And... you know... all science has to start with a proposition... or didn't they teach you that in Czechland? Perhaps they didn't, huh?"

Radek is silent. It is Rodney's quiet tone, his seriousness despite the attempt at at insult that tells Radek that the argument is apparently over. And he is uncertain whether to leave.

"You wish me to assist you in this?"

"Hm?" Rodney is already so pre-occupied that he believes that Radek has already gone.

"You would like some assistance?"

"No. I'm good. After all, I wouldn't want you to do something that was against your principles..."

"It is not against my principles... Colonel Sheppard is missed by everyone... I am merely concerned by the safety aspect... a few years ago..." Rodney had blown up half a solar system whilst experimenting in just this field of physics.

"I know... I know... you don't have to keep bringing that up! Go if you're going, get on with something if you're staying..."

Radek sits himself at a desk and pulls over a vacant laptop, commencing firing up.

"I still say," his voice sulky and petulant, "you would do better not to use our valuable resources and to further devise ways to augment the ZPMs"

"Am doing... we will need that extra power... most of this can be done with the bare minimum but we will need at least one massive burst of energy to keep down the incidence of exotic particles... Anyway, what are you? My boss?"

"Hmph... And you are not mine either... _now._"

"Look, this keeps me occupied.... what do you want me to do? Go out hunting... toil in the fields... get my hands dirty?..."

"Be careful... Someone might take you up on that..." warns Radek, typing now, pushing up his glasses, coming up to speed, not wishing to admit that what he's finding here, so far, is pretty interesting.

"I'd be useless... You know that... And... I've done enough to earn those resources ten times over... and they won't be spent... as such... whatever components are used, can be dismantled for something else... there!... Happy with that!?"

Radek is quiet, studying his screen. He frowns.

"So you are using a capacitor aided device, similar to the one that you found on the alternative Daedalus?" Yeah. When the Team had been trapped on that ship, leapfrogging, out of control through parallel universes... and Rodney can just sense Radek's criticism in his tone... for although the capacitor reduced reliance on exorbitant amounts of power... the navigational system was found wanting... Rodney knows all this... and knows Radek will remind him of the flaw anytime soon...

"And was it's use not banned by both Commander Woolsey and Colonel Sheppard? Because of difficulties in predicting with accuracy where to place any jump through to another reality? You can say goodbye to any control you think you may have... Matter bridges are notoriously undirectional... in theory, no... in practice, yes." Radek shakes his head. "Even if you know _where_ he is, which is highly improbable, you'll have considerable problems locating him with the necessary precision... "

And Rodney tries not snap back at him, because, hey, constructive solutions would be good... "Earth. Ronon's sure of that. I'm relying on him having a personal transmitter so we can pinpoint him..."

"Oh... so... this is all peachy..." says Radek, peering at figures on the screen...(Peachy? Where did he get that from?) "We are going to another reality... based on some psychic sentiment... You... um... have changed Rodney. Weeks ago, you would not have dreamed of doing this..." Rodney makes no reply and continues to work, pretending not to have heard.

"Anyway..." continues Radek, "who knows? In less than two weeks, with the arrival of the Apollo, all of this may cease to be relevant...."

-oAo-

AR. II.

Sirens down in the street...

For him?...

Lifts his head quickly. And... ouch... stops... pain that seems to lacerate his very eyeballs. Sinks back face down into the pillow again. Groaning.

The wailing noise fades and whatever it was, passes on by.

The pillow is damp at his cheeks. He must have slept with his mouth open. He brings up an arm and wipes his lips...

Time? Is the groggy question that forms in his head. And. Where's the phone? He reaches out to the bedside table, fumbling over its surface. It's his numb hand, but everything feels heavy at the moment... he clumsily sends his cell phone banging to the floor. Along with his empty glass. Along with the hotel phone...

Crap!

He risks opening his eyes again. Peering blearily over the mound of pillow to the window. The room is grey and its nothing to do with his hazy vision. Night's falling. He's slept the afternoon away...

And there's that niggling thought... something he'd been thinking about before he fell asleep... what the hell was it?... groping for something concrete and definite in that sponginess that's passing for brain cells... something... hell...

Gingerly, he rolls over on the bed, holding an arm hard against his forehead... as if that helps... best not to budge at all... especially as the room spins with the movement...

There's a whining noise coming from the hotel phone. Warning him that the receiver is off the hook. Let it warn him... He can't move.

He lays there, arm still resting over closed eyes, trying to ease down the throbbing in his head. He guesses that Lennox's cronies didn't pack him any painkillers...

So much for only the one drink...

He glances across to the desk and squints at the bottle he'd had sent up by room service. The small one in the room bar just hadn't been enough somehow... well, at least he'd managed to stop before he'd emptied it... he guesses that's when he fell asleep though...

But this was the middle of the day... he hates himself... disgust... he didn't even get to the shower...

And he still had bad dreams... bad dreams if he sleeps... bad memories if he doesn't... and now more bad memories... being accused of murder... life is a line... and his is just disappearing off the charts...

Get up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get up.

How many times? How many more times can he pick himself up?

And what _is_ that niggling thought? Elusive. But he feels it was important somehow...

Slowly, he pushes his feet round to the floor and sits. And stands. Too quickly. Reaching for the edges of the desk with two hands to stop himself falling. Swallowing hard to stop the giddiness. To stop himself retching as nausea hits. As the aroma of his stale uneaten Businessman's Burger Bonanza wafts across the room.

Sees his reflection then in the mirror over the desk.

_'Look at me,'_ he'd said to O'Hara... yeah... look at me...

Folded up. Folded up inside. Falling apart from the inside out... like a city falling...

Not John Sheppard. Not John Sheppard any more.

Older for a start. How could he have aged so quickly?... get the beard off... he'll look better then...

_A warrior by any other name, who remains strong in the face of adversity is still a warrior._

Yeah. But not him... fight all gone... nothing that lack of a beard would help with... could he really have caved in quite so readily?... he's been tested... to his limit... stop feeling sorry for yourself... memories... who lives with these?... three best friends dead... their faces... like well thumbed photos... round and round in his head... his... home... gone... dumped by the Airforce... and everything now... things can't get much worse...

Life is a line... no... life is sucks... it has a way of curling up on itself... the line becoming a tight, tight knot... strangling him...

He needs to use the bathroom, and holding onto the wall, shuffles through to the ensuite.

Hell!-

Trips over his unpacked holdall. Is sent hurling through the doorway. Crashes into the shower cubicle hard against a shoulder. Sprawling down onto the floor in the confined space. Smacking the side of his head against the washbasin worktop. Things go white, sparkly, then black, and back to grey and blurry and whizzy in his ears and... he's laying on his back, looking up at the underside of the plumbing, groaning, trying not to be sick... and then has to roll over... because he is... and nearly passes out again...

And he has to get up right away... pushing himself to hands and knees, levering himself upright as if against some kind of zero gravity, head so bad it's like a drum banging... and he has to bear it all because he really does need to use the facilities now...

He does the business. Somehow. Without a light on. And then reaches up to pull the little switch above the washbasin. Braces himself against the shock of too much light. Another mirror and he looks worse than ever. Yellow. And a dribble of blood down his temple. And when they say a splitting headache, they really mean just that...

Perhaps... he needs something like this to knock some sense into him...

He rinses his face and hands in cold water. All helps marginally. Gets himself a drink of water too. Swills out his mouth. Perhaps room service can bring him up painkillers. A fresh burger. A fresh wave of nausea. No food. Not a good idea. But he hasn't eaten all day... he's gonna make himself ill... brain power not so good... but he can figure out he's gonna make himself ill... what is it?... liver... it's your liver that you damage... at the moment it just feels like his head... he's just got to stop doing this to himself... he's just got to... somehow...

He lurches back to the bed and slumps down. Seeing the phone on the floor in the semi darkness. But can't be bothered to reach for it.

The pillow's just too nice and soft on his head. Arm across his forehead again. Which painfully touches the place where his head made contact with the worktop. He'll fall sleep soon...

_What was it he had been thinking about?... _this was damn infuriating... something to do with Lennox... the two guys in the car... they're always in pairs... that was it... they're always in pairs...

O' Hara... there were two guys seen at the store... when his bike had been torched... yet three guys were thought to have carried out both attacks of arson... coincidence... the third was probably just the boss guy... watching from somewhere safe... didn't get his hands dirty... didn't beat up on John that time either... coincidence...

He'll fall asleep soon... and they'll be another bad dream... or stay awake and remember the last damn one... think the usual damn thing...

McKay... standing alone... 'go and live'... last thing he says... last thing he does... before annihilation... Ronon... and his staring eyes... Teyla... it's always worse with Teyla... so many scenarios... he sees all of them... he shouldn't keep thinking like this... but he can't stop it... like the drinking, he can't stop it... because Teyla... he never knew... perhaps she'd been lying crushed somewhere... like he had been... injured... unable to move... and no one to rescue her... he hoped... and this was so damn awful... he hoped she'd been killed outright and hadn't suffered... perhaps she'd found the passages blocked... could find no way out... could hear the alarm... knowing that time was running out... knowing how her end would be if she couldn't find a way out... and John remembers how it had been for him... when the Replicators had created the imaginary Atlantis in his head... when they'd had to initialise the self destruct then... when he'd been the one to carry it out manually... not Rodney... he remembers facing up to it... pressing the keys and the final button... silently saying goodbye to all those he knew... closing his eyes... waiting for... waiting for obliteration... oblivion... that's how it had been for Rodney... perhaps it'd been like that for Teyla too... or perhaps it was like Ronon... nearly making it to the Gate... nearly to safety but not quite... goal in sight... so unjust... to die at the last hurdle... and there's an image in his head of Teyla's eyes staring unseen like Ronon's... staring at nothing... cheated... cheated at the last moment.... or if she were trapped, injured... her and the last two or three of her group... realisation of approaching death on her face... dust and grime on her face... on her hair... sliding down the wall... exhausted... waiting... hoping that the others were ok... hoping that not too many others had died... remembering TJ and Kanaan... silently saying goodbye... perhaps regrets she had chosen to remain with Atlantis... perhaps no regrets at all... firm in her resolve to the very end... but not crying... tears in her eyes but not crying... that's how it would have been...

But John wipes away his own tears... feeling this as keenly now, as eight months ago... as he had done the day after... he turns his head into the pillow... it shouldn't have happened... none of this should have happened... somehow... it was all his fault... if he'd tried harder... if only he had tried harder... he could have taken out the alien ship... he should have taken out the alien ship... they were relying on him to take out the alien ship... he didn't... he didn't... he didn't... he failed them... failed... he didn't do it...

There's tears... but he can't cry... he just can't cry... he wants to... he needs to... but he can't... it's nearly like he's hurting too much to cry...

There's a knocking somewhere.

What? The door?

Room service come for his crocks?

Ignore it and it'll go away. No. They'll think he's not in and use their key anyway.

Lennox come back? Said he wouldn't.

Knocking again.

"Who..." And he winces. Because it really hurts to talk. "Who is it?"

But he's not loud enough and the knocking is there again.

He stumbles to his feet, and makes for the door. He should use the peep hole. He's supposed to be in hiding, isn't he?

Radek. How?

He opens the door without thinking, hiding behind it though. As much as he can. And instantly wishes he hadn't. The light's blinding from the corridor. And... the look on the little guy's face.

John ignores him, steeling, hardening himself inside again. And makes for the bed again. Grabbing the last of the Scotch from the desk on the way. He doesn't have to hide this any more. It's all a bit obvious. Plumps up the pillows so he can sit and drink. From the bottle because he can't find the glass on the floor.

"Come in." Because Radek is still out in the corridor. "But... don't... switch on the lights."

"I've come at a bad moment perhaps?..."

"Radek..." and he drinks. And it's good. And it's bad that he still needs this... but it'll be the last time. "You're here now." His voice is choked. He'd rather not talk. But... Radek is here now...

Radek enters. Closes the door carefully behind him. As if John is already asleep. As if he is trying not to make a noise. He remains just by the door, however.

"I... I can't see..." he explains uselessly, his eyes not accustomed to the semi-darkness, otherwise he would come in further. It's a strange room and no, John wouldn't want him to trip over too.

He remembers that there's a dimmer switch behind him. The bed lamp offers a soft orange glow to the room. So Radek can see. But he only sees John wiping his eyes....

"You look... Your head... you have taken a fall?"

"Yeah... and don't... don't lecture me about... the vices of drink..." It's that what it's called? He pulls a face... because... he sounds like he's a priest talking. "I know... You were right... I have a problem." And he offers his glass up as a toast. But hates himself. For his sarcasm... for taking it out on Radek. "But... promise... this is the last... I've learned my lesson..." Being accused of multiple homicide should have done that...

Radek pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"Yes... well... it is often... not that easy." And Radek is looking round the room. At a loss, at what to do. His nose wriggling... Because, no, John imagines it can't be smelling very pleasant in here...

"Open a window if you like..." offers John, because... he can't do it...

"Yes. Yes. Of course." Eager to be doing something useful.

The noise of traffic is instantly in the room... and gratefully, some fresh evening scents.

"You should put something on that cut," suggests Radek.

"Haven't any first aid. You don't happen...? I could kill for some aspirin..." No, he didn't mean that. Kill.

"No. I don't carry anything. The ladies. They are always good with the handbags. They carry these things always. I 'll get you some up?" And he reaches down for the hotel phone and puts it out of its whining misery.

He sits on the edge of the bed to complete his call. John swallows more drink. The room's starting to swirl. He really should have gotten Radek to get him some food.

"Colonel..."

"No. It's not Colonel. Not any more. I told you."

"I'm sorry... I cannot get used to this... You are still Colonel Sheppard to me. And... it pains me... to see you like this... you are not well..."

"No... but it doesn't help... you know... getting arrested... st... straw... that broke the camel's back..."

"Yes," nods Radek, "I saw it on the news..." And that wouldn't have pleased Lennox.

"How did you find me?"

"I... police computers," Radek confesses soulfully to the floor.

"You hacked in?"

"That's what I can do..." and he modestly shrugs. Like it is no big deal, but John knows that it is for Radek. He wouldn't normally take those sort of risks. "It is not like I altered anything. I simply wanted the information."

"Radek." Through the haze in his head... he's making a plan. And it's ok to talk out loud about this, he thinks, because he's getting a sort of paranoia about Lennox and has already checked the room for bugs. "You couldn't do that again and not get detected?"

"Why? What do you... plan... to do?" asks Radek uncertainly.

"I want to know what the police have got so far. On these murders. I want to find the real killers. And... I might ask you to access the IOA files too..."

"IOA?" And Radek's eyes have gone big and round.

"Yeah... I've got a hunch."

Radek purses his lips, considering. "But I may ask something in return, however?"

"Yeah?"

"That you allow me to help you... that you come to stay with Ruthie and me... and we make sure that really is your last drink..."

"I can't... They're moving me on... and we have only two days to do this... at the most..."

"You do not know where?... We could come with you, perhaps..."

"No. Radek. You don't have to do this. I'll get over it," he says huskily. He screws on the cap... because he knows he can... can stop this any time he likes... and feels the numbness creeping through him... and for a minute even the headache goes... and the bottle slips from his fingers and falls off his lap...

"I feel as if this is all my fault you see..." says Radek.

"How?" And John's blinking now. Trying to keep awake. Trying to keep his fuzzy brain working.

"Because I failed to visit. Because I stayed away."

"Radek. It was an alien space ship that was to blame..." Because... after all, its when all this started... He's so tired now. He shifts down the bed and curls over. Away from Radek. Pushing at the bottle so it drops with a thud to the floor.

"No. Perhaps. No... It was me... I was at fault... I failed to ensure the self destruct was operational..."

"Radek... surely, that was Rodney..." he mumbles, half asleep into the pillow.

"It was dual responsibility."

"Should have made it work with a remote... Why didn't... why didn't you guys make it work with a remote?" And his own voice surprises him... how he means it... how twisted up inside he is when he says it... because... such a simple thing would have made all the difference...

"See... you _do _think it was my fault," says the melancholy Radek.

"Don't... don't eat yourself... up... over this.... Would only have saved... Rodney."

"That would have meant one more life..." And what a life...

"Radek... don't..."

"And you... I… both of us... lost so many friends that day..." and Radek is shaking his head.

"Tell... me... "

"Ronon, Teyla..."

"Radek... don't..."

"Even now, I cannot believe it... Atlantis... gone... poof!" And he waves his arms in an explosive simulation.

"Radek, please..."

"And much of it... my fault... We should have also detected the ship sooner... We should have had the means in place..."

"No..."

"Why couldn't we have simply destroyed the Gate?... Left everything else to these aliens... Why not? Surely it would have been better to have sacrificed Lantean technology than lives... Why was not that implemented?"

"No. Radek. No. Radek. My fault... my fault... military commander... me... my fault... me..."

And he buries his face deeper into the pillow. And can't stop it then.

"I should have saved them... me... I should have saved them..."

Can't stop the tears. Can't hold back the grief... Rodney... Teyla... Ronon... Can't stop his shoulders heaving... can't stop the sobs... can't hold back the crying any longer...

-oAo-


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Aternative Reality I.

"Hmmm," says Jenny to the pillow.

"It's ok... go back to sleep..." says Rodney quietly, and bends over and places a kiss in her hair. She smells so good... he hates to leave.

But she's awake now and rolls over to watch him dressing.

She blinks at him. Trying to push back dreams. "You know it's the middle of the night?" Because he's capable of not realising that. Capable of being so absorbed in some project, much like this one, and not realising it's not morning yet.

"I can't sleep. Thought I might as well get back to the lab. Things to do..."

She pushes herself up on her elbows. And he sits on the side of the bed to pull on socks and trainers.

"Rodney... I'm... worried."

He stops what he is doing with one sock dangling limply in his hand and stares at her suddenly concerned. He'd never wish for Jenny to be worried. Ever. That's what wedding vows are all about. But his heart misses a beat for another reason entirely... he hates it when Jenny starts with her lets-be-frank-with-one-another voice.

"Worried? What about?" Because he knows he should ask... Jenny is expecting it...

"This is fast becoming another one of your obsessions..."

"Obsession?"

"Yeah." And she nods in her you-know-I'm-right way.

He resumes putting on the sock, pretending at lightness, "Oh, that's what scientists are like... they get all... _involved..._ you should have realised that when you married me..."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know all that... but... this is different... this is an obsession... like the way... you carry that video around with you... the way you keep watching it... even now... I don't say anything about it... I've been giving you time... but this latest project is going the same way... it's not a vital project... It's not like we're all going to _die,_" and she rolls her eyes, "_if_ you don't do this thing... so, as far as I can see, it's different from your other work. The hours you're spending on this... it's out of proportion to everything else... it's becoming an addiction."

And she's saying these things because for the last week, he has spent all his time on this project... and it's not even his spare time... he's delegated his Commanderish tasks, such as they are... he's missed meals... he's missed sleep... lots... he's missed coming to bed, or rather, Jenny has missed him coming to bed... and there has been no point in coming to bed as he wouldn't sleep, but would toss and turn much like he had tonight... he's had a week now of not making it to Jenny's side till after midnight... and then he's up again at three or four... adrenalin is coming into play... he knows that... his mind won't be still... going over a thousand and one things... constant...

"Well, which is it... an addiction or an obsession?" he asks blythly, putting on a shoe.

"Both."

He ties up a lace and says nothing. What does she want him to do? Stop now that he's nearly there... nearly finished... just one or two little gremlins to sort... actually more like ten or twenty... but he'll get there... he'll get there...

"I want to get this done... before the Apollo might show... so... yes... it might seem like I'm devoting every minute to this at the moment... You jealous?" And he smiles and bends over sideways to try and steal another kiss.

"No!" And she pushes him away. "Be serious! I am... And I'm not jealous... I knew when I agreed to marry you that I'd be sharing with your work." And she sits up and pulls up her knees and hugs them and speaks again, "Rodney... You have to learn to let go... I know you miss him... we all do... just accept... you can't bring him back... And this other Sheppard, as I understand it... he won't necessarily be the John Sheppard that you knew..."

"I know that. If I was just simply after a replacement, I could make one out of nannites..."

"You would do that?!" And she looks horrified. Her head must simply be a buzz with the ethics...

"Would? No. Could. Only may be... I said before... I'm not doing this for us... well, a little... maybe... but for him...." And he bends down and ties the other lace. And stands.

"Are you sure? Are you sure that what you're doing, isn't still out of grief? Sometimes... people who get left behind feel guilty... Is it guilt, Rodney?"

And he wants to ask what part of her training covered grief counselling, because that sounded like it'd come straight out of a textbook, but he could never be that unkind, not to Jenny. He doesn't answer, thinking, going to the dresser they share, where he puts on his watch and loops his radio over his ear.

Is it guilt? He never thought it could be... though Radek had hinted at that too... if he'd gone back to Earth instead of Sheppard... and he remembered suggesting it... he could have pleaded a case for science in Pegasus... perhaps he hadn't taken it seriously enough... and didn't argue that much with Sheppard... money matters... he never had taken them seriously.... if he had done, he could have hacked into the Stargate computers and wouldn't have got caught... he knows that... so... he was to blame for Sheppard's death... he was guilty...

"Rodney?"

"What is it, dear?"

"Did you hear me?... People who are left behind often feel guilty."

"Sorry... I was thinking..." and he returns back to the bedside.

Left behind... living... feeling guilty about still breathing?... when Sheppard wasn't... Is that how it works? That simple? That basic? Still living when Sheppard was dead... guilty... Was guilt his driving force?... His impetus.... then... he must be seeking a replacement... deep down... but the other Sheppard is still only a theory... not a living, three dimensional, breathing, sentient being... He is still only in Rodney's head...

"And it's not for us either, Rodney, not like you sometimes claim... is it?" continues Jenny, "not when Ronon says we have to let you do this, otherwise you'll go nuts. And not when Teyla still has reservations?"

"He does? She does?"

And Jenny nods her head vigorously. "Hmm, hmm."

"Oh."

Well, Ronon... yeah, he's not surprised... and he was probably only saying that to put Jenny at ease.... so they were all talking about him behind his back?... and he thought they were a Team again... but Teyla... he thought she was ok with this... she'd not shown any different, the other night, when he'd came across her on the balcony... so she'd said something to Jenny?... Girls, he thought, just got together and gossiped and giggled over the pages of magazines...

"What has Teyla been saying exactly?"

"I'd rather not-"

"Oh come on, Jenny! You've started this, now you have to finish!"

"Rodney!" And she is blushing.

"Go on! Out with it!" he teases.

"Rodney!"

He folds his arms.

"I'm not going till you tell me!" he says in a sing song voice.

"Well, perhaps I won't tell you and then you'll stay!" she retorts.

Oh... right... he hadn't thought that through... hadn't seen that coming... And he quickly lets his arms drop.

But Jenny looks over to the kitchen area and tells him anyway. "She has said that even if Tagan accepts him, and she would be happy if he did... he still might grow up confused... because... on the face of it... this John would be his father and he's not old enough to understand that he's not... but Teyla could never consider him so... he'd only ever be another... uncle... a father figure rather than a real actual father... as... how can I put it... this is delicate... her words... not mine, you know?... she would never be able to share... the physical side of things with him... he would always be a stranger to her... it would all be very awkward for her... " And Jenny looks back at him, pointedly.

"Oh." And Rodney reddens.

"Yes. Oh."

"Well... we haven't got that far yet."

"That's what I said to her. But considering this... and considering her earlier thoughts that this is all wrong... you are carrying on regardless?"

He looks towards the door wondering if he should go or not... now... or ever... because if the truth be told, they had encountered so many difficulties, he doubted he would ever find a solution... before the Apollo arrives... or even in his lifetime... he'd thought that Teyla had now accepted the idea... but perhaps she'd simply been quizzing Radek behind his back and therefore knew that there was a strong possibility he was never going to achieve this goal... that an alternative Sheppard was never to be...

And Jenny takes the look to mean yes, that he is longing to leave, to get to his lab... and yes, he is... he is... because he hates leaving things unfinished... incomplete.

"So you see..." she says quietly, laying down, rolling over, turning her back to him. "It is an addiction. You can't say no to it."

"Jenny..."

She turns her face to him, peering over the bedclothes... "If it isn't... prove it... take off the necklace."

His hand reaches up to his chest where he can feel the shape of the drive under his tee.

She knows her husband too well.

"No. No. I can't." And he picks up his jacket, shuffles into it and leaves the room...

And is it true? Is he so very, very selfish?

This is going nowhere. Admit it, Rodney McKay. This is hitting the deadest of dead ends anyway...

He stops in the corridor on the way to his lab. Turns a little. To go back to Jenny. That would make more sense. Forget all this. Admit he is wrong. That there is no way they are ever going to access this parallel universe safely. They haven't even gotten close. Jumper Three, the means to access the other reality, has been rigged up with the capacitor device. And they've been doing simulations all week. They'd been clutching at straws to get all the figures right, all the possible connotations... but nothing is working... and now to learn... that he'd be forcing Teyla to go through with this... when she'd rather he didn't... that was selfish, wasn't it? It must be... to be thinking of Sheppard... at her expense... to be thinking of himself... how could he put forward his ego at a time like this? To try and achieve this goal... How could he be so low?

But he can feel him... feel him even now... it has to be right... but which Sheppard?... which Sheppard is he feeling the pain of?...

He turns again and walks on, in the silent sleeping corridors of Atlantis at night, grappling with the chain at his neck, pulling out the drive, holding it tight... like some sort of crucifix...

And if he gets rid of it... it's still up there... in his head... in technicolour... screen surround... multiple speakers...

Sheppard jerking with every bullet entering his body... The slow count. That he has gone over... over... and over... And Rodney stops and closes his eyes tight.... Sheppard in the cell... quantifiable... actuality... that he can do nothing about now... its gone... he can't change it...

And this thing he's attempting to do... based on something unquantifiable... indefinable... nothing more than... huh... 'a funny feeling this might be true'... that he thought he could solve... put right with nothing more than a bit of jiggling of appropriate algorithms... but he can't... and Radek can't... it's gone too... it's solution is as evasive as the other... as much beyond his reach as trying to save their Sheppard from the cell... impossible... who has he been trying to kid?... The Great Rodney McKay has finally met his match in the form of something that is insolvable...

And then... Teyla. He really had thought she was ok with this now. He remembers the other night on the balcony...

'I'm sorry. I'll go. I didn't realise you were here.' It was dark and he hadn't seen her in the shadows.

'It's ok. Rodney. I was just leaving. I can hear JJ starting to stir.' And she'd held up the child monitor.

'Taking in the night air, huh?' He had breathed in good deep breaths.

'Yes. And you?'

'Oh yes.'

'You have changed, Rodney.'

'I have?... well, perhaps you have Jenny to credit... or blame... for that.... that depends... all good, I hope?'

'Ye-es. Good. A year ago, you would never have contemplated coming to a balcony like now. You would always say you never have the time.'

'Well, the needs of Atlantis aren't quite so demanding... and I need to think...'

'Think... yes... about your latest project? You find it beneficial to come to a balcony?' No hint, no indication that she resented what he was doing.

'Yes, well, fresh air and all that. Jenny says I never get enough...'

'Inspiration too?'

'There's that.' And that was the real reason he had been there. As if it could be grasped out of the thin air... the starlit sky... the deep beyond...

'Myself... I am finding there is something missing now... How can that be? When we have simply moved to another location?'

'That would be...' and Rodney checks himself... but Teyla finishes anyway...

'No. It has no connection with the absence of John as such. I am not reminded of that here... I miss my husband every time that I look upon our sons...'

'Because we are not at sea, then?'

'I do not think it is even that.' And she had frowned in her attempt to find the right words. 'What is missing is... something that was within John... I cannot explain it...'

And JJ whimpered a little then over the monitor and she said good night and left.

So... Teyla had no out-and-out objections on her part...

For here she was, conceding that... something is missing. From Atlantis. That elusive something. And it needs Sheppard to fill it... Something that was within Sheppard. And that's what he's searching for... that can't be explained... that is in this new Sheppard...

Do this... do this _for_ Teyla then... because she can see... can see that Atlantis needs Sheppard to fill it... to complete it...

Do this for Atlantis...

But at the moment, it is as much like chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow...

The lab.

And work to do.

No more all of these people making him question his motives.

And he activates the door.

And he's blinded by and surprised by the lights that have been left on.

And he's even more surprised by the presence of Todd and and two Wraith requiring said light.

AR. II.

John wakes up and for a few seconds, he can't figure what it is he's looking at. Curtains billowing high into the room. Like... like the undersides of the wings of the aschatee.

The window has been left open and a dawn breeze plays and toys with the light fabric. He watches... letting the sight mesmerise him... letting the cool air ease his still throbbing head... There's a delicate smell of pines in there somewhere... forests of Pegasus... the way your boots hit soft pine needles and centuries of decayed leaves and mosses... crack dead drying twigs... kick against the waist high ferns and gorse... the scents when a light rain fell... as it always seemed to... the way you could look back... and see... and hear Rodney complaining about catching cold or spraining an ankle on a log, two inches high... Teyla, with her laughing eyes and the rain glistening in her auburn hair... and Ronon, dark and silent, dependably bringing up the rear...

He could nearly fall asleep again... and suddenly is aware of another movement... Radek... asleep... but stirring in the armchair facing the foot of the bed. He doesn't look in the least bit comfortable.

"Radek!" He calls softly. "Radek!" because there's still time for Radek to get home to Ruthie and a good bed and better sleep.

Radek's eyes spring open, struggling for a moment to remember where he is.

"Colonel." John is never going to get him to stop calling him that.

Radek yawns, rubs his eyes and stretches his arms. "I must have dosed off. I'm sorry."

"Go home." And John notices that his holdall is empty and is stashed on the luggage rack... Radek has unpacked it. A glass of water sits on the bedside table. Along with a pack of pills. And he feels the side of his head. There's a dressing plaster there. And he can nearly bet that the bathroom has been cleaned up... and he'd known nothing of this... crying himself to sleep like some kid...

"Go home." He says again and hopes that Radek won't take it as an order but as a piece of advice. He reaches for the box of pills with shaky hands and fumbles open the lid, trying to get the sliver foil out. Radek is there, taking them away and offering back two white tablets and the glass.

"Thanks." But to even swallow, to throw back his head to down the water is agony... own damn fault... learn your lesson... don't do it again.

"You still need looking after, I think?"

"Ruthie?"

"She understands. I have told her all about you. She understands." And John wonders what Radek has said about him exactly. Sometimes with Radek, it feels like hero worship... well, that was misplaced, wasn't it? Because Colonel John Sheppard had certainly been knocked off his pedestal now, hadn't he? Whatever had Radek thought of last night's performance? And John feels both embarrassed and ashamed.

"You're wrong, anyway. Half an hour... a shower... I'll be ok..."

And he rolls over to his back and stares at the ceiling. Hoping that the growing noise of the building rush hour outside will hide that of his grumbling empty stomach.

He could always have the last of the Scotch...

"Yesterday... you wanted me to do something... you remember? So I took the liberty to bring up the laptop that is in my car." John follows his glance to the desk where the computer sits waiting.

"Oh... yeah..." He hadn't quite expected Radek to be so efficient, but he's been just that so far, in spite of the way he'd been into self-criticism the evening before... and... well, come to think of it, he always had been on Atlantis too.

"But first, we should try and eat and take that shower... no?"

"You reading my mind?" And Radek beams at what he takes to be a compliment.

"I'll get your clothes ready-"

"-No!" bursts out John. "Radek... please... stop this... I'll do it." And John's crawling out of bed like an old man. With a head he's afraid to move.

"But you don't know where I've put things..." explains Radek.

"Then... I'll find out." He's not about to accept Radek as a servant. He already hates it that the guy must have been touching, rummaging through his boxers... but then the guys from the IOA have been too...

"You should drink more water first..." seeing John wince at opening the cupboard doors.... "You are dehydrated..." and he's going to the bathroom with the empty glass...

"Radek!" Ouch. And that hurt. "Enough already. I can do it." And Radek slowly puts the glass back down.

"I am sorry."

"Don't!...." Quieter John... "Don't keep apologising either... It's me... I've done this… to me. Don't keep..." _feeling sorry..._

And Radek looks down at the floor, so crestfallen... hell... John just has to take pity on him. "Look, while I'm in the shower, order us both breakfast." And its like throwing scraps to a puppy, but at least the guy is happier now.

When he comes out of the shower, Radek already has the laptop fired up and is munching his way through an over-sized blueberry muffin. With great relish. John surmises the guy isn't normally allowed such sweet treats by Ruthie.

Two plates on a tray. "This mine?"

"Hmm," says Radek with a mouth full, not taking his eyes off the screen.

John lifts a cover on a plate. Bacon and eggs on waffles. Another with pancakes and syrup. He raises an eyebrow.

"You trying to fatten me up?"

"Plenty of carbohydrates. You need plenty of carbohydrates for the hangover. And drink plenty of this..." and Radek points to a jug of what must be a whole litre of freshly squeezed orange juice...

He's sure that Radek's made that up, about the carbohydrates but he'd eat anything now, and with this thirst, he starts with the juice, though he can hardly pour from the jug to a glass, he's so weak and trembly. He sits down heavily on the bed in a position just behind Radek so he can see the screen over the Czech's shoulders. And he can't believe he's just managed... somehow... to take a shower and shave... It was worth the effort though. He feels loads better already.

"I thought coffee was the hangover cure?"

"No... " and Radek shakes his head, spilling crumbs over his keyboard which he brushes aside with annoyance... "Caffeine makes you even more dehydrated."

The drink is long and cool and like nectar.

"What have you got so far?" He asks, reaching carefully for the tray, placing it on his lap, and unfurling the cutlery from the folds of a serviette.

"The police have deleted everything, well, everything to do with you..." They would have to keep something on file. The Spencers must have relatives somewhere who might kick up hell, if they caught wind of the fact the police really had closed the case.

"It's not a problem though?" He was sure that with Radek here it wouldn't be. It never would have been with Rodney either...

"Deletions always go somewhere... never completely erased... unless someone really clever had been sent in by the IOA or Stargate themselves... and I believe, the numbers of those able to do that can be counted on the fingers of one hand." There was just a hint of boastfulness there. "Which.... does not appear to be the case!" declares Radek triumphantly, as his screen suddenly comes to life...

John can't read it unless he leans forward and squints hard... and he's trying to eat. He catches a glimpse of his police photo and hates it...

"Give me the run down?"

"There is very little here other than what you know already, I believe... Dates and times... They interviewed you? I know that because when I rang in, they said that's where you were... yet there is no record... no transcript...."

"They didn't get the chance to write it up... before the plug got pulled. No other suspects either?"

"No... doesn't appear so... Forensic reports... all incomplete summaries... full reports were expected to follow later... ah... though there is more for the three hoodlums..."

Sheppard couldn't help a smile at that... hoodlums... and hid it by gulping down more drink.

"But they had little to go on... no fingerprints for that... your car had come up clean... the assumption was you had used an alternative vehicle... the same way that you'd used an alternative weapon... so nothing could be backtracked to you..."

"Calibre and make of gun? They told me it was the same calibre for both... and probably the same gun even."

"Point 40... but... and they should not have overlooked this when they arrested you... possibly two different guns... therefore... _two_ people?" And he turned round open eyed. "They were suspecting me when they came to your house? As an accomplice?"

"Looks that way..."

And Radek turns back to the screen, cursing in Czech, but probably glad of the narrow escape.

"There is nothing about two guns for the Spencers?" asks John. Two guns... two guys... always pairs... his theory... he hardly dare think it...

"No. They did not get that far. Questionning of neighbours revealed that no one heard anything like shots... so perhaps silencers were used. No forced entry... Though your fingerprints were found in the hall, living room, kitchen and bathroom."

"They invited me round for... meals," he explains to Radek. No way was he going to say tea and cake...

"Oh no... I wasn't meaning... no... I wasn't meaning that I thought... no... I'm simply reading what is on the screen..."

John starts on his pancakes... and yeah... carbohydrates are pretty good...

"They have other unidentified prints... but these are other visitors... a tradesman called... they all have to be eliminated..."

"Can you go to the police reports on my arson attacks?" Pausing with a forkful of dripping pancake.

"Attacks?"

"I owned a bike. A Harley Davidson. It was torched one night. The surf shop, the night after."

It takes Radek five minutes to find the reports and John finishes his food and juice and replaces the tray back on the desk. He falls back to the bed and flops down on his back gazing up at the ceiling. Too full to move. He doesn't talk. He doesn't want to break Radek's chain of thought...

'Hurry up, Rodney!'

'Give a guy, a chance! Perhaps if you didn't keep interrupting, I'd get on a whole load quicker!'

How many times... how many times had he and Rodney gone through that particular scene?...

"These haven't been deleted," says Radek finally. "Anything in particular you wanted to know?..."

John sits up and works his way to sit on the edge of the bed again.

"Witnesses reported seeing two guys hanging around when the bike was torched. The police assumed it was my extortionists but there were three of them. It might not mean anything..." and he shrugs. "I'm being watched by the IOA now. Was I then? Have we both had babysitters all this time and not known it?"

"I have not been aware... Is it necessary? It means they do not trust us? But we signed non-disclosure papers..."

"Perhaps that doesn't mean anything to them..."

"Perhaps we do not look honest enough?" And Radek frowns like he's really affronted.

"Is there a description?"

"Only to say..." and Radek peers at the screen closely, "they were dressed in black or dark clothing... "

"Not hoodies?"

"Doesn't specify." Possibly a dead end then.

"Lets move on to the IOA... Lennox's office, in particular."

"This will take longer... I'd already accessed the police HQ yesterday so I knew the way in... this is new... Are you certain you want to do this? This is your hunch? That they know who committed the murders? But whereas yesterday you were accused of murder and were innocent... you do this and we are caught... it is very illegal... very illegal indeed..." And he is shaking his head again... but already closing down the screen to proceed...

"Two guys... hanging round my place... my surf shop... that's what the police said... two guys watching me now... they're IOA... two guns... fired by two guys... professionally... so professional the police think it's shows training... that's why I was pulled in..."

"My God... Colonel... you are saying that the IOA are responsible for all this?... that they... would... _kill_?"

"I don't want to be proved right... I don't want to find out these guys go round doing this... it makes a little sense to take out the extortionists... perhaps they thought they might find something out about me... I don't know... it seems a little harsh all the same... but not the Spencers.... that's what's wrong with my theory... but the police were sure it was the same gun used... perhaps it wasn't... so I want to see what the IOA are up to... and it would explain why they were so keen to shut the case... to cover their tracks... I hate to think conspiracy theories here... but at the same time... that's what it's looking like..."

He didn't want to believe any of it, though... and he certainly hated himself for thinking this way... even of the loathed IOA bureaucrats. The time when he had returned to Earth, for his father's funeral, he'd gotten to meet some of the field teams, and was re-united with Bates... and they were all good men...

"Well, you can take a little sleep, I shall be a while... to hit upon the password... they change it everyday you know... but then... once we worked with them... Rodney and I..." And he's clicking away... lost to the world...

And so its John who tells the maid to come back tomorrow. And John that orders them lunch. And orders up endless cups of coffee, though Radek frowns at him. He watches TV on low volume in the afternoon. Longing to go out... to get down on the beach... walk... or even jog... With the brisk breeze, he supposes that the surf is good, though he knows that he's not fit enough for that... but the longing is there all the same... And Radek is still working away. Probably enjoying the challenge. So John has to be here... when... if Radek makes a break through... Often John thinks this is futile. Why not just confront Lennox with this? Perhaps he might have to...

John looks at his phone at one point. Several messages from the planning department, the shack owner, the insurance company, all wanting to know where he'd gotten to the day before. They hadn't connected him to the John Finley arrested for murder... Radek had said that he had appeared on TV only very briefly.

There was little point returning the calls if Lennox was going to move him. He guessed he'd have no choice in the destination now... his surf shack... all that seemed so far away... decades away from what had been happening in his life in the last twenty-four hours or so... and John Sheppard of Atlantis was another guy entirely, of centuries ago...

"Colonel? Colonel?"

He wakes... to a room lit blue by the laptop screen... It's evening again. And he'd nodded off. A vague dream hanging there... of burning shacks that send out burning beams of blue... that destroy blue city towers... that send the aschatee screaming down with broken bleeding wings, deep, deep down into blue waters... to rise again, breaking through white surf... crying... crying... no place to go... no place to go...

"Yeah..."

"I'm in."

"Good work." And John climbs off the bed stiffly and crouches down beside Radek. "What are we looking at?"

"Lennox's department... like you said..." And his voice is low... and John glances at him, concerned... he's pale... been at the computer all day... and probably didn't sleep that much the night before... Radek lifts his glasses and wipes his face tiredly. "I've been looking..." and replaces his glasses to blearily peer at the screen, "while you slept... I'm afraid it's true... I'm surprised they left memos like this... but they were encrypted extremely well... There are orders here... to four operatives... day and night shifts... to keep an eye on you... to use whatever means are necessary... to protect your identity..."

-oAo-


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Alternative Reality I.

It's that feeling. Literally. The hairs on the back of his neck crawling. He's sure they are. Or a load of insects have taken up residence there. And installed a helter-skelter.

Rodney swipes a sweaty palm over his nape. A futile bid at invertebrate massacre.

And its not surprising that he's thinking in terms of entomology, of Iratus bugs, when two of the Wraith are moving fast across the room to either side of him... one of which he now recognises as Kenny... before he has a chance, or presence of mind, to radio for help, or even plain turn tail and run...

He's in shock... He's rooted to the spot...

Though... viperish... viperish is a better word, he thinks, to describe Wraith... the way their yellow eyes flit at you... before they strike... but they haven't struck... they haven't stunned him... haven't held him up against the closest wall and began to feed... and Todd hasn't even moved at all... and Rodney could nearly think he wasn't the least bit interested in the free meal that just walked through the door and offered itself...

"Well, this is… quite unexpected, isn't it, Dr McKay?" And Todd, folds his arms comfortably and leans on a console, smiling in his unfriendly… yet… hungry smiling sort of way… crocodile sort of way… all teeth sort of way… vampire sort of way… and hey? Wasn't that supposed to have been Rodney's line anyway? But he still can't speak... and this is all quite feeble he knows… but it's sort of difficult to be brave and Sheppard-like wedged up between two Wraith and Todd in front.

He really should try though. His giant step for mankind... because the effort feels that tremendous.

"Yes, isn't it?..." is all that squeaks out.

"How are you?"

"What?" he croaks.

"How are you? That is what you humans say upon first meeting, is it not? I would not wish to be considered impolite." And Todd holds his head to one side, peering with the aforesaid snakish eyes through heavy silver trellises.

But hey? Uninvited guest here... Todd has sorta broken the cardinal rule on good manners already... big time... not that Rodney's going to mention it...

"Fine." And Rodney coughs. "I'm just, you know, fine." And no way is he going to ask how Todd is... to return the courtesy... even if it does mean the Wraith would consider _him_ lacking in etiquette.

"And now that you've got all the social niceties out of the way, would you mind, um, just leaving?" Though he couldn't imagine for one moment that Todd had come here simply to ask after his health. And... how did he get here anyway? "And, um, perhaps taking your… friends with you. Got things to do… busy, busy, busy." And now the vocal chords have got going, life, or the prospect of death, doesn't seem quite so bad. He could die talking. Would sort of soften the blow. He tries to make a move forward towards his desk, but the not-Kenny Wraith to the left of him makes a small move first and blocks his way. Can't do that then...

"Aren't you just a little curious as to why we are here?... and how we found you? I mean, here, on this planet," and Todd stands and waves a long bony hand with a flourish... his left feeding hand... that has Rodney's gaze fixated for a moment, or maybe two... or three, "where you were apparently intending upon some degree of concealment?"

Which hadn't worked then. Which was Todd's point, he guessed.

"Go on then... I suspect you're going to tell me anyway..." and do some gloating in the meantime... And Rodney sighs and it's his turn to fold his arms and he also brings in some impatient foot tapping for good measure. But actually... he does need to know...

"We have technology too..." and that's all Todd says. Though Rodney waits some more...

"That's it?! That's all you're going to tell me?! Don't you think that I don't _know_ that already?!"

"You cannot expect me to reveal everything now, can you, Dr. McKay... simply understand this... we can track you and infiltrate Atlantis and you are not even aware..." hisses Todd with a hint of menace.

They were all so dead... so dead.... and here they were, worried about the arrival of the Apollo... overlooking other dangers... how much sooner would it be before Genii turned up with grenades and guns at the ready? If he survives this... he's got to get to work to put stops in place... boost their early warning system... forget about rescuing Sheppard...

"Oh come on! We've been here over a week now... what took you so long?!... Not quite so good as we think we are, are we? Hmm?"

Todd merely grunts a reply and straightens and turns to face the screen he had been working at when Rodney entered the room. Kenny takes that as a signal to go over to another... Rodney's own.

"You have nothing to fear from us, Dr McKay... at least... not for the present. This visit comes out of... curiosity. Colonel Sheppard has permitted my freedom now... what?... on three separate occasions... I find myself regrettably in debt to him... It is the least I can do... to keep your presence here secret from passing hives..."

Not until Todd wants to bargain again. Wants something in return.

"Where is the Colonel incidentally? I do not detect him." He appears disinterested, continuing to type something. And Rodney finds his hands fidgeting at his sides. To stop him. And Kenny. What if they erased important data with their meddling? He really wouldn't want to go back to square one... not after all this time...

"Detect?"

Todd simply glances at him through those slitted eyes of his... "Detect, yes."

And Rodney, nods, comprehending. That would be the life force given to Sheppard by Todd, of course... a direct line to Sheppard if in the vicinity.

"Not here." He doesn't want to say. And his head is grasping for suitable synonyms. Anything other than 'dead'.

"I know that," growls Todd, a little irritated.

"He's... passed away," says Rodney quietly.

"Passed away?" It must be a term Todd hasn't encountered before.

"Killed. Murdered. Dead."

"Oh." A quick flicker in Todd's expression that was gone in an instant, and Rodney couldn't decipher whether he was surprised, regretful, glad or what. "Well, we shall all miss him, I am sure." Glad then? And he continues with his work, quickly calling up file after file. Requiring no further explanation from Rodney... and Rodney is helpless in the face of this marauding into Atlantis data systems...

And it occurs to him, standing there, that, perhaps... perhaps the Wraith Todd cannot say how he feels... well, he wouldn't in front of the other two...

"Ah..." and Todd finds something... "This is perhaps why you are here? John Sheppard returned to Earth as a result of Earth humans wishing to close down Atlantis? You say he was... murdered? Here, it says, he resisted capture after... accessing confidential files..."

"Yeah... and let that be a lesson to you... No... that's the official line... he was murdered... take my word for it."

"Humans turn on humans too, it seems... It says here that you were supposed to relinquish command to the Daedalus? But you opened fire instead? Destroying your own ship? Truly? You did this?" And Todd seems amazed and impressed but Rodney can't accept this sort of credit.

"It was accidental."

"Accidental?"

"Yes! Look! Can we stop with the questions! Just get what ever it is you want and get out of here!"

"But it is answers that I am after, Dr. McKay. Bear with me a little longer, if you would be so kind... And now... you are... renegades?... Attempting to hide..."

And Rodney rolls his eyes, impatiently. But realising that if he is frank and honest, then at least he won't be subjected to the hand on the side of the head interrogation... that... hurt. "Yes! If that's how you want to put it!"

"There is no other way when it is the truth, Dr. McKay. So you come to Athos... hoping no one will follow or think to search here... a wraith feeding ground..."

"Scans showed that visits by Wraith have dwindled to practically nothing..."

"Hm... the Hoffan disease..."

"They are investigating travel to parallel universes," says Kenny unprompted... though it's possible that Todd had already asked telepathically.

And Rodney can't resist the impulse any longer. "No! No! Don't touch! Leave that alone!" And pushes off the not-Kenny Wraith, in a rather masterly manner, he thinks, storming across the room to assess the damage that Kenny's interference might have caused.

Todd allows it, nodding to the not-Kenny Wraith to remain where he is, guarding the door.

"That again, Dr. McKay?" How did Todd know? That they'd done this before? "You were considering escaping Pegasus that way? You must surely know of the instability of this procedure?"

"Many of your configurations are incorrect," observes Kenny. "And even if they were... you would be best to limit admittance to only the one... to consider taking through Atlantis... cannot be done..." and Kenny is shaking his head, nearly tut tutting in a manner of an old chemistry teacher, Miss Tennyson, Rodney had known in sixth grade... well, he'd proved the dried up prune wrong then...

"Look, how do you know all this?" Though there was very little that Kenny was referring to, that Rodney wasn't already aware of. And he wasn't about to correct them either about their mistaken assumption that he wanted to take Atlantis through.

"We have technology too..." smirks Todd, snakily and lizardly entertained by all of this. "And like you, are always keen to extend the boundaries of our knowledge."

"One man can do this," says Kenny. "Power is kept to a minimum. As too is the creation of exotic particles and hence damage also to the time fabric. It is imperative that you protect yourself from the potential entropy and radiation. I would suggest one of your Gateships... A Gateship would be an optimum size and suitable for this purpose..." Yeah. And Rodney knows all this too...

"Why, thank you for stating the obvious..."

But Kenny continues, completely nonplussed. "I, myself, used a Dart, somewhat smaller, but I am sure a Gateship would be adequate."

"Jumper," says Rodney tiredly, conceding that perhaps Kenny did know something about travel through to other realities. "I thought you knew... Gateships. We call them Puddle Jumpers... Jumpers... Sheppard... Sheppard thought it up." And that distant memory nearly hurt.

"It always amuses me, the names that Sheppard gave to us... Todd? Ha! Yes, and you... Kenny..." as Kenny looks up expectantly, hoping to get a mention, no doubt.

"Well, what do you expect us to call you? The Wraith with the biggest nose? The Wraith with the most evil looking fangs? The Wraith with the most appetite for humans?"

"Hmmm... A warrior does not need a name other than that of warrior..."

And Kenny nods sagely and wisely in agreement.

"Anyway... back to your proposed travels..." reminds Todd, "we experimented with this many years ago... to discover new feeding grounds... but found the risks too high... the tearing of the fabric of subspace... and since no significant numbers of Wraith could be transported this way, the plan was abandoned... a wise decision, do you not think? Perhaps you could be discouraged from doing likewise?"

"He has fed into his end figures the transmitter frequency of Colonel Sheppard."

"I misunderstood? I thought your objective was to take through Atlantis? And I thought you said... he was dead."

"This is another," confesses Rodney lamely.

"You are after a replacement? To help with the predicament that you find yourself in?" There was nearly a sneer somewhere there, in all the hair...

"Yeah... that... and I have reason to believe he needs... rescuing..." he may as well go the whole hog and tell Todd everything...

"How very commendable," says Todd sarcastically. "But, I'm sure if our Colonel Sheppard was anything to go by, this other should be perfectly able to take care of himself... though saying that, our Colonel Sheppard _did_ get himself killed, did he not?...." And Rodney winces.

Todd then sighs resignedly. "You will permit Kenny to assist you? He is our expert in this matter."

"Why?"

"You do not wish for his help?"

"No. Why are you offering it?"

"Does it matter? Oh... I don't know..." And he shrugs. "I would hate to be accused of sentimentality, but if the appellation fits, as you humans say..." and he makes a show of looking at his feeding hand... "Also I have said, I am in debt... perhaps this will put me into... credit... that is how your monetary systems work, do they not? It has come to our attention that there is a new threat in Pegasus, a threat to both humans and Wraith alike... we may need to become allies once more. And also," and he now studies his black fingernails, "I believe that with the absence of John Sheppard, worthy adversaries will be rather thin on the ground..."

"Thanks," mutters Rodney.

"So... will you accept the offer?" And Todd, straightens up to his full height and that alone should be enough for Rodney to say yes.

"It will not take long. Two human hours at the most. A simple recurring error that can readily rectified," explains Kenny. And that was the second reason to agree. To think that Rodney and Radek have nearly been there... but not quite... perhaps Rodney would have seen it without Kenny... perhaps he simply needed a fresh pair of eyes... however reptilian. "And also, one very major flaw in your thinking... I am surprised that you did not see it, Dr. McKay..."

How like a Wraith... to fill you with hope... and then let you down... you think you're dead... they beam you up or stun you... you wake up and think, 'hey, I'm still alive!' and then they feed on you...

"The final connection... when the operation is at it's most vulnerable?... when the operation can quickly become cataclysmal? Especially as your target is so minute and specific... alignment of the two parallels is crucial... then... you facilitate a break, thus..." and Kenny quickly taps in figures for Rodney to examine. "A mere nanosecond... but... a nothingness... when matter is at its most inert... when there will be no disruption... proceed then... crossing over to the other parallel... and the two become one... see?"

And Kenny has just described, in mathematical terms... the workings of a railway line... a junction... when there is a gap in the track... when one joins the other... so that the train and its passengers simply glide over... unaware... a smooth transition...

AR. II.

"We need a meeting," says John, flatly. He isn't going to give any indication to Lennox what this is all about. And give the man a chance to come up with ready answers.

"I'm busy. You can talk to me now. On the phone."

"No. I can't."

"What's eating you?" John hasn't been able to do toneless as much as he likes then. Emotion, anger mostly, has crept into his voice in those simple short words.

"My hotel room. Half an hour." And he rings off. He's sure that Lennox is still in the locality. Nothing on the computer file has indicated any recent communication that is long distance and Lennox is supposedly sorting out the life of John Devlin anyhow.

John really did want to get out of the room. It's starting to feel claustrophobic. Even with the window wide open. But in the interests of national security he supposes his meeting with Lennox ought to be private.

He drifts to the window to watch for Lennox's arrival.

The wind has changed direction completely from earlier and the curtains tug at their pole, flapping dementedly beyond the window frame. Like flags... a wedding of the Akkuli people... pure white banners hung everywhere, that slapped and twisted in the wind... seeming to add to the frenzy, the dizziness of the dancers... themselves decked out in strips of white cloth... Ronon was happy to meet with every bridal maiden... Rodney was happy to stuff his face once he had established nothing contained citrus... and Teyla was happy to explain the wedding rituals to him... he seemed like he was the only unhappy person there... he guessed it was because they'd been asked to leave their guns at the village perimeter... but he felt awkward standing next to Teyla, having to lower his head to hers to hear above the music and raucous singing... he just couldn't relax... he excused himself to collect a drink... and never returned to her side... found hours later... talking stupidly to the underside of a table... with a whole urn of Akkuli wine tucked under an arm... he shouldn't have done it... he was on duty... he shouldn't have done it...

He looks at the space on the desk where the last of his Scotch had sat. Radek had taken it away with him. Said he'd come back for the laptop. John needed it perhaps to confront Lennox. He needs the Scotch too. He could send up for more. But he's going to stop now. He's promised Radek. But as Radek had said... that promise should be to himself... how could he have been so stupid?... how could he be so stupid?...

The expected knock. He'd seen Lennox talking to the two in the car. His stomach lurches. After all, how might Lennox react? John might be getting himself into more trouble than getting arrested. What he and Radek had done was totally illegal... And he had warned Radek to be ready to pack and get out of town quick.

He opens the door.

The man moves in, nearly smirking. Because this feels all very melodramatic.

"What's your problem, John?" And John's problem is that too many damned people use his name as if they're his damn friend.

"I know," and he closes the door behind Lennox, "I know who killed the Spencers... _and_ the three goons, for what it's worth."

"Ok." Lennox makes a good attempt at hiding his surprise. "So you know. Mind telling me how?" And glances at the laptop. "The Zelenka guy. You got him to hack into our files. Gainst the law, John. But we'll only bring him in, to tell us how he did it... don't like breaches of security."

"No. I imagine you wouldn't... So we're not under arrest? Why would that be? Some sort of concession to buy our silence?"

Lennox smiles sickly. "Just don't do it again." And unbuttons his jacket to sit lazily on the bed.

"That's it?" asks John, unable to believe this guy.

"Yeah..."

"That's all you gonna say?" And John is finding it difficult to keep that anger under control.

"Want do you want me to say?... Nothing changes, John. You can rant and rave as much as you want." And Lennox just knew he wanted to... "Climb on your moral high horse and try and get me fired. Is that what you're after? But they'll be others following on behind... who'll be given exactly the same job... to protect you no matter what it takes..."

"Licensed to kill, huh?"

And Lennox smiles again, thinking John is joking. "Yeah, something like that."

John looks down at him, smouldering, fists tight at his side.

"I have just spent the last five years of my life... and then more some... trying to save lives. No one... _no one_ takes lives on my behalf!"

"Ok." And Lennox stands, unmoved, though they are face to face. "I've duly noted your objection. But like I said. Nothing will change. Now..." and he buttons his jacket again... "I have to go..." and he pushes past John heading for the door... "Oh, and by the way, I didn't think that you made a very good job of saving lives the last I saw..."

John loses it then, grabbing Lennox's arm, seizing hold of his sleeve, ready to swing him round.

"Take your hands off me!" threatens Lennox.

John pushes him away in disgust. He wouldn't want to touch this piece of garbage.

He finds his place back at the window. To gaze out. To simmer down. To put a safe distance between him and Lennox. Car lights are sparkling down in the street as dusk creeps in.

"You didn't have to kill them... The Spencers," he says bitterly.

"Oh, but we did." And Lennox is brushing down the fabric of his sleeve. "They were snooping into your things. Someone got careless and left their door open... someone got careless and left their dogtags laying around... because they got canned... we heard it all." So his home was bugged?

"You can't blame this on me!"

"Oh, and I think I just did."

His fault? This was his fault? They were laying the fault at his door? And it's getting more and more difficult to hold in that anger again.

"You didn't have to kill them." He keeps his voice low and controlled, but it's hard. "They were harmless. They were just..." So ordinary. "They could have been warned off."

"I'll admit that a certain operative was a little over zealous in his interpretation of his mandate... He's been duly reprimanded."

And John turns. He really wants to scream at this guy. "That's all?! Freaking reprimanded?!"

"He was just doing his job... look, John..."

"Don't you John me! It's... Colonel!" And he's pointing his finger. Emphasizing every word. He could really throw that punch now.

"Whatever..." shrugs Lennox, "all this... we're having problems with the Trust... that's why all the paranoia... we've got word they're after ex- Programme guys... giving them a rough time... soften them up... or picking on those already... fucked up... they're easier to recruit... simple psychology... especially if its someone who's been thrown out... discharge and all that... gives your confidence a boost, I guess... knowing someone actually _wants_ you... don't feel thrown on the scrap heap..."

"I wouldn't have given them anything..." murmurs John... though aware... aware he fitted the description on all counts...

"No. And once you said you wouldn't turn to drink, huh?" John wants to tell him to get out. To get the hell out and leave him alone. He returns back to watching out of the window.

"You tell Blakeman and Connors it was you, that it was you who killed those guys and the Spencers," mincing out his words, damming up what he feels inside.

"You're in no position to make those sort of demands. And what difference does it make now, anyhow?"

"It makes a difference to me."

"Like I said, you're in no position to make any demands."

And John turns his head. "How about I leak this out to the press? I can't believe the guy in the street would be very pleased about government employees going around killing. Or how about I leak out the whole story of Atlantis. The Stargate Programme. Perhaps they have a right to know, what's being done in their name to protect these things?"

"You wouldn't dare." John doesn't think he would either. He's just seeing how far he can take this bluff. Just show Lennox he really _was_ in a position to make demands. He might even be signing his death warrant, even threatening this, considering what little excuse these guys needed to kill.

"Watch me."

"We've warned you... you step out of line and we lock you up and throw away the key."

"Find me first..."

AR. I.

Well, that wasn't so bad.

Yep. Fingers and toes all intact and where they all ought to be.

And all the bits in between? All present and correct. And Rodney wriggles in his uniform just to make sure...

And the created rift is successfully sealed behind him.

And Rodney just can't help feeling a little bit excited.

And Radek would now be finishing safety checks on his side. And then Radek would go and tell Jenny that Rodney had gone. Because Rodney had left without telling anyone, before dawn... before anyone was awake. In fact, he's even neglected to tell Jenny it would be _him_ making the trip. Well, not neglected as such... as it was deliberate on his part. He didn't want her to worry. Though if she had listened to half the things he had been saying over the past few days... she should have guessed by now what it was he was planning to do. And perhaps it was irresponsible to leave Atlantis at this point, with no Commander and the Apollo bearing down on them...

And... and so... he was going to be in such deep trouble when he got back... it'd be divorce for sure... but hopefully, with Sheppard in tow, everyone would be predisposed to forgive and forget...

His own safety checks. And he cloaks the Jumper. More checks. Final checks. And yes... landing. A gentle thud. In what should be local parkland. And the HUD... there's the red light indicating Sheppard's transmitter. And that's good. That is definitely good. And none of this could have worked if it weren't for the fact that this Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter is emitting on the same frequency as their Sheppard's. If it weren't for the fact that this Sheppard even _had _a transmitter. Of course, Rodney might have just ended up at Stargate Command where other transmitters existed and he would have been forced to work from there... but this was more fortunate and made life a whole load easier.

He makes a quick note of the position... and transfers the information over to the life signs detector. That he's adapted to pick up any sat. nav. systems that may exist in this reality. But it's so like their's, it'd be inconceivable if there wasn't. So he has a bleeping signal now on a local 3D map...

And the thought... and the thought he's going to see this Sheppard for the first time... he's feeling excited... and then... the thought of seeing Sheppard for that last time going through the Gate... and on the video... he feels like... a traitor... no... no... that's too strong... the old Sheppard... the deceased Sheppard will always hold a special place in his memory...

Time to go, Rodney. And he warily twists himself out of the pilot's seat, trying to avoid disconnecting all the extra wiring that's been rigged up, attaching the Jumper's controls to the contraption in the back. Which is all important. To get them back again.

He opens the hatch. Of course, it's dark. He remembers that he has no flashlight and searches for one... and odd this... he's just lived one long night tying up all those loose ends and now he's about to start another. He's going to get one helluva jet lag, he's sure of that.

He takes a deep breathe, steps out and closes the hatch with his gizmo thingey. Funny that. Sheppard never did give it a name so everyone still called it a gizmo thingey... perhaps that's what Sheppard _had_ always called it...

The air here has a hint of the sea. But the scent is predominantly that of civilisation. And that's odd too. That Rodney can tell. Can perceive these things now. Is aware of the differences. Between fresh air... pure fresh air of the sparsely populated underdeveloped Pegasus planets and the concrete and fossil fuels smells of twenty-first century California.

And they had narrowed everything down because of what Ronon had seen. Though it was still all guesswork. Cars meant Earth. Probably. Big cars meant the States. Probably. The beach meant west or east. And they gave Ronon pictures to look at and he was sure it was west coast. Probably.

And in probability forecasts, there is always a probability that probability is going to be right.

And Rodney is probably going to take the Nobel Prize in optimism, at this point, if nothing else.

He is certainly walking with a spring in his step, following the LSD, and the swaying beam of the flashlight...

He'd got to stop this. And he did. Literally. Stop. Right where he was. Things had moved too fast. He'd forgotten. Overwhelmed with the excitement of it all, by all the science, that thanks to Kenny, had eventually worked out... he had forgotten.... Of course, he and Radek would have worked it out sooner or later, but Kenny made the process a whole lot faster... he had forgotten...

Forgotten the point of this journey.

Probably, to rescue Sheppard.

He had no idea what from. What dangers could lay ahead? But... here he is... in the middle of a residential area... What was Sheppard in danger of? What was he doing here? Rodney hadn't even thought to strap on a gun... And the thought of having to use one... Though he couldn't exactly be seen wearing it... Though he could have hidden it in a pocket. He should go back to the Jumper...

And then, there's Radek's question, echoed at various times by all the others... What if Sheppard doesn't want to go back?... What if they've... _he's_ got it all horribly wrong?... Perhaps Sheppard's here because he's retired and settled down and happily married with three kids and two dogs and a cat and a rabbit... And Rodney finds himself touching the drive at his neck... no... it's the same.... the same unhappiness... he knows that...

And he carries on with his search to find the gateway out of the park, that creaks and clangs shut behind him and makes him jump... because now he's edgy...

And if he meets Sheppard... what's he going to say? Hi. I'm Dr. Rodney McKay from another reality? Because there is always the probability that Rodney McKay doesn't exist for Sheppard in this reality.

He really hadn't thought this through.

He's walking fast along two blocks now. Because its blowing like it might rain... He really hasn't thought this through. He didn't even bring his leather jacket. And... he checks the LSD... damn... Sheppard's moving... he was in a house, a building... and now he's leaving out of the back... into the next street over... and Rodney's running to head him off... and as he arrives at the top of the road, breathless... he sees car tail lights fade into the distance... and a glance at the LSD confirms it... Sheppard has just driven off in the car...

Rodney sighs. All this way... if you can describe going through a rift in terms of distance... though he's certainly travelled from the Pegasus to the Milky Way... to miss Sheppard by seconds... though he hasn't lost him... he's still there as a red flashing blip... and Rodney doubts he was on his way to have the transmitter removed... perhaps he'll return soon... gone for a take out...

The house is only four doors down and Rodney decides to give it a look over. As long as he's quick, it won't hurt... Just to make sure there are no obvious signs of domestic bliss. Just to confirm that he hasn't got this wrong...

Rodney switches off his flash light. He wouldn't want to get arrested for acting suspiciously now, would he? The house is in darkness. So no one else is home.

And curiosity is a strange thing. It anaesthetises any sense of well-being that is normally strong in Rodney. And he knows its wrong... but he needs to know what he's up against... and it was Sheppard who'd taught him to pick a lock... when Sheppard had claimed he could do it quicker than Rodney could disconnect an electronic device... they'd taken bets and timed it... and then reversed roles... and timed those too... and Rodney was better at both... of course, he wasn't smug for weeks after... of course not... and he's in the house in seconds through the back door using his little tool kit that he always keeps with him... scarcely daring to breathe... trying to shut his ears against the intruder alarm he's set off... that he finds and quickly disables...

Rodney had better be real fast now. The alarm might have alerted someone. Like the police.

And he puts on a light. Sheppard's not married. He's sure of that. The main room, a living room hasn't been touched by woman's hands. And its drab, dreary and disappointing, and yes, Sheppard would want to be rescued from this. Probably rented furnished, and temporary. It has an old person's feel to it. But then, this might be to this Sheppard's tastes... He sees then a suitcase, a packed hold-all and a couple of boxes filled with DVDs, CDs, books, papers. Sheppard's moving out.

And on the table. A pen and notepad. The top sheet's been written on. And Rodney picks it up and he's shaken by the note. The handwriting is so identical to their Sheppard's... its beyond belief...

And it says: Radek. I'm leaving.

AR. II.

He has left a note.

Radek. I'm leaving.

But he couldn't see how to carry on.

He needed to explain more. And a note won't do that. He should meet up with Radek and talk. But he wants to disappear _now_...

It sits there still... unfinished...

The beach. And think on it. And say goodbye... the last time...

On the pier. When Rodney was affected by the parasite. Before they visited the Shrine.

'I want to say goodbye,' Rodney had said. 'While I still can...'

'No. I'm not going to accept it. You're stuck with me.' He couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye then. Nor could he in the Control Room, when Rodney had said, 'go and live.'

A bottle he found in his house. Vodka. So if he meets up with Radek, he won't know... but it's only a farewell drink... it really is this time... he won't go stupid like last time... so why not a beer?... always a beer with Rodney... sometimes Ronon, if Ronon wasn't too busy chasing Amelia... he wonders what happened to Amelia in the end... he vaguely remembers Rodney urging Amelia, Chuck and Radek out of the Control Room with everything crashing down around their ears... centuries ago... when he was John Sheppard...

Life is a line. Discuss.

Life is a wave. And he's at a down point again... what can he do to ever ride a wave again?

Life is not a line. Mostly life is corrugated. Zigzagging. Angular. With cutting points of pain. Confusion. Tangles. Knots. Mazes. A crazy doodle. Chaos...

Sometimes you just want to cross it out.

Two straight lines. That dissect.

And start again.

And he remembers a dream... of the aschatee swooping and gliding low and fast over an ocean, crested white with heavy rolling surf... but he knows its himself... flying the Jumper again... towards something that is impossible... Atlantis rising sparkling and spectacular out of the water... power and thrusting upwards from her watery hiding place... like that first time... but it's not to be...

He drinks... to Rodney...'Think of where we are in the Universe, Major', impressed when the ceiling becomes one enormous holograph of every thing that exists...

He drinks... to Teyla... 'I am Teyla Emmagan, Daughter of Tagan' standing proud in her people's tent, offering tea.

He drinks... to Ronon... the unbroken runner, the silent caveman, scavenging through their bags.

First memories. But they hurt as much as the last.

He wants to be free. Free of the memories. But can't see how. Drinking brings sleep. But sleep brings dreams. And waking brings more memories.

Life is a circle. Discuss.

He drinks again. To the Spencers. But does he really need an excuse? The Spencers. Executed. No other word for it however much Lennox wants to dress it up in terms of national security.

He's going to run away. Change his identity again. One of his own chosing. If you go in the right bars, pay enough, false passports, driving licences can be found. Go north to Canada. Or south to Mexico. They won't find him. He'll get rid of the transmitter. And no one need be killed in his name again.

John Sheppard will definitely be dead.

He should fight this more. But can't. No fight left.

Lost that in Atlantis, he thinks.

He looks out to the black water. And drinks. And drinks again. To Atlantis... and throws in the bottle... tomorrow it will be washed up and no one will be there to collect it. A bottle with no message. Hollow. Empty.

He looks out to the black water. The surf distinguishable just.

And its tempting to swim. To let the water take him. To let the cold take him. To let the numbness take him. To kill everything that is inside. All the hurt.

Radek. I'm leaving.

Perhaps... there is no more to say...

He hears a noise behind him. A grating noise.

And it's odd. It's familiar. From another time... another place... he turns round.

A strange shimmer... like the way a Jumper used to look when it cloaked...

A figure walking towards him.

Rodney.

"I hear you're leaving. Need a lift? I'll let you drive."

Rodney.

Who throws him the gizmo thingey. That John catches.

-oAo-


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Sheppard walks away. Emotional. Choked. Must be. Of course, he must be. This is a pretty emotional moment for the both of them. He comes to a stop beneath the first lamp of the parking lot and turns.

"Who are you?!" He fires back at Rodney.

"Dr. Rodney McKay." And Rodney approaches him and he bows slightly. "Isn't it a little obvious. Hm?" Because he has seen that Sheppard had recognized him. So, he's a little puzzled maybe. Because... he hadn't expected that question... What had he expected? Arms thrown around his neck? Cries of 'how I've missed you!' Well... perhaps he's glad it didn't go that way either...

"No. You're not. He's dead."

"Nope. Nope. I'm most decidedly not." And he pats his body, a show of checking to confirm it-

"-Quit messing with me. He's dead." And Sheppard's hands are on his hips. And that posture from Rodney's Sheppard only ever meant one thing...

And Rodney's attempt at joviality evaporates... this Sheppard is seriously... serious.

"I'm sorry... but... you're angry?" Anger. He hadn't expected that. But this Sheppard's Rodney is dead... apparently... and Rodney had been expecting that... sort of... so it was natural... this Sheppard needed explanations... and fast...

"You bet I am! What are you? A clone?"

"No. I'm from another reality."

"What...?"

"Another reality."

"I heard... what do you want?"

"No... correction... what do _you_ want?"

"And I said, quit messing with me!"

"I'm not... honestly... you want this straight?... I'm from an alternative reality... we found out..." how is he going to explain this without sounding all gooey and soft and sentimental? "We sort of felt... you might... want to... come back... with... me..." and he trails off... knowing that as his explanations go... that is pretty feeble... Where is the science? Where is the worthy speech from the Commander of Atlantis?

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. Why would I want to come back with you?"

"Because... we think... life... isn't much fun here?" And it's getting feebler by the moment. And he's weakening by the minute in front of this Sheppard's simmering rage. And he adds quickly, before another of the death blow questions to his confidence, remembering that it was only Sheppard who'd ever been capable of ever doing that to him, "You said already your Rodney is... deceased... and I'm sorry to hear that... and it's possible that others of your Team... are... deceased also? Perhaps? Maybe?" And he both hopes it isn't true but prays it is... because then he was right... and if he isn't... then that's ok... but he might as well just turn round and go home...

And Sheppard has calmed down, a degree... studying the ground. So perhaps Rodney _is_ getting this right... and Sheppard seems to understand everything he's saying... so this Sheppard has or had a Team then...

"And... possibly... Atlantis has gone too?..." and this is all quite tentative, delicate stuff but it has to be said... "otherwise... you wouldn't be... here..." And it goes awfully quiet. The sounds of the sea. The drone of traffic on the nearby highway. "Am I right?"

"Yeah," and Sheppard turns away, his hands relaxing to his sides, and he sort of... crumples up, the anger dissolving visibly through his shoulders. And Rodney can't see his face, but a hand goes up and Rodney is sure its to wipe... tears? And then he suddenly feels pretty choked himself... and useless... because he's always so useless at the comfort thing... he can always _do_ things... but words... gestures... but this is Sheppard... always strong... but then this is the Sheppard they could always feel the hurt of...

There's sand on the concrete paving beneath his feet, blown up off the beach... and Rodney shuffles absently in the loose stuff with his trainers. And there's a scent of something sooty and scorched in the air, and Rodney notices, for the first time, in the darkness, that they're standing near a burnt out derelict building.

"It's been tough, huh?"

"Yeah," and Sheppard turns around. "It's been... tough." And he nods. And bites his lip. And he looks awful. Not that he looked that spectacular minutes before. Not the healthy Sheppard that Rodney had last seen going through the Gate...

"Want to tell me what happened?"

And Sheppard glances at him. A look that wonders if he can, whether this Rodney would understand. After all, this Rodney is a complete stranger...

"It's ok..." assures Rodney, "I believe... if my theory is correct, that is... that I'm pretty close to your Rodney... or was... perhaps..."

"I've... I've... eight months..." and can't continue... and shakes his head... disbelief?... and turns away... and turns back again... finding some strength from somewhere... and rubs a hand over his face... that's cut with that hurt... that sorrow that they'd all felt... and he starts again...

"Some aliens came in... no warning... don't know who they were... attacked us... couldn't hold them off... lost Ronon... Teyla... Woolsey... others... I was injured... so... so... it was down to Rodney to operate the self-destruct... it went wrong... as always... had to be done manually..." And its too much again and he's facing the parking lot once more...

"I'm sorry. Others? Not Radek... though." And Sheppard looks back questionning. "I went to your place first... saw the note."

"Oh. No, Radek survived... forty one in total didn't."

And that would hurt Sheppard as much as anything... if he were anything like Rodney's Sheppard. And Rodney's wondering if he should take Radek back too... no... two Radeks would be unthinkable.

"Atlantis went big time, huh? And you? You left the military?"

"Got retired. Lost the use of three fingers. And some... paralysis down the arm." And he looks down at his left hand as if he still can't believe it's true. And he's wearing a loose black shirt, rolled up at the sleeves... and though the light is dim... Sheppard is standing directly beneath it... and Rodney can make out the heavy white scarring pinching at the skin.

"And life hasn't been too good since?" He remembers the dingy little house.

"No," confesses Sheppard, with another slight shake of his head, as if he can't believe that either. But he's not forthcoming on the details and Rodney has no intention of pressing him further. This has been eating him up... for eight months apparently...

"So... you're leaving? This is... a new start?"

"Yeah... a new start." And Sheppard puts his hands into the pockets of jeans, hunching his shoulders as if against the chilly night air.

"And you still wouldn't consider making it in Pegasus?" Recalling Sheppard's anger of earlier, Rodney wasn't holding his breath that Sheppard was going to agree to the return trip.

Sheppard finds a stone at the tip of his boots and pushes it around with his toe. Hesitating, considering his reply.

"You must have gone to a lot of trouble to come here. From what I recall, trips between parallel realities are no small thing. So, what's the deal? Why are you so eager? And... where's... your Sheppard? If you have one..."

"He's dead." Rodney hadn't meant to say that quite so bluntly as that.

"Oh."

"And there really are no strings attached. You just have to sit back and enjoy the ride. As far as I can tell, our reality is pretty much like yours... a sort of mirror image in reverse... whereas you lost Teyla, Ronon and Rodney... we lost our Sheppard... But... if you decide to come, there are warnings... several... um... dire warnings possibly. We think Sheppard was killed by the Trust who've managed to infiltrate Command. They killed Woolsey too. They'd gone to Earth to protest... well, about as mundane as something as budget cuts, would you believe? And it all, sorta snowballed. They found out something and were murdered to keep them quiet... Woolsey, they said was a heart attack. Sheppard was supposedly killed trying to escape. We tried to get to the bottom of things... to clear his name... and somehow... um... somehow ended up destroying the Daedalus-"

"-You destroyed the Daedalus?" asks Sheppard incredulously.

"Oh, you had a Daedalus too? It was accidental, you understand, but we decided to move Atlantis... because of possible repercussions... and we expect they'll be a lot of those... we expect the Apollo is bearing down on us as we speak... and..."

"It's a mess and you want me to sort it out?"

"No. No. No. I said no strings attached. I meant that. None of us... none of us are after a replacement... and we're ready to keep running if that's what's needed... it might not happen..."

"You're going to keep running?" Rodney thinks he can detect an edge of criticism to his voice.

"We're not going to fight... not if we can avoid it... too many people have died already..."

Sheppard is quiet again, thinking, considering, kicking at that little stone again. A car enters the car park... and Sheppard looks up alarmed... checks the car out with his eyes... and then seems relieved... a couple climb out, giggling and laughing, walking between Sheppard and Rodney, oblivious to their presence, eyes only for each other, off for a some romantic night time stroll, no doubt... Rodney hopes they don't accidentally bump into the invisible parked Jumper. Sheppard waits for them to pass out of earshot before asking his next question.

"Nothing else I should be warned against? Anything else you should fill me in on.... _if _I decide to come."

So... he's considering it... But perhaps he senses it... senses that Rodney is holding back on some details... that might put Sheppard off... though anyone would think that Rodney had outlined enough of those already...

And those eyes... nervously flitting now to the parking lot entrance... it hadn't occurred to Rodney that Sheppard might actually have had some sort of meeting arranged...

"I'm sorry... I interrupted... you were expecting to meet someone?..."

"It's ok... not someone I especially wanted to see... just be quick..." So Sheppard is going to make his decision there and then... and yes... Rodney supposes that's what he expected... though that's yet another thing he really hadn't thought through... that he couldn't be giving Sheppard a week to think this thing over... Rodney really does need to take him to Atlantis in the next minute or so... while Radek still has the device ticking over, so to speak...

"Where was I?... Well, they'll be no coming back, for one..."

"And?" And this is the real hurdle, thinks Rodney.

"You're not married? Were never married?"

"To someone called Nancy once. Didn't work out... Why?"

"Thought that was the case.." He'd talked of Teyla as if she were just a member of the Team. "In our reality, Sheppard was... and this might make things a bit awkward... but... Sheppard was married to Teyla and they have two sons."

Sheppard lets out a long deep sigh... "And Teyla?... she's ok with all of this?"

"She's ok, yes... but... it's just going to be... awkward... I'm not selling this to you, am I?"

And Sheppard shakes his head and he's all choked up again and he looks down at the ground. At his stone. As if answers are there...

"The boys..." Rodney adds, "they're wonderful kids... and that's me saying so... "

And Sheppard gazes across to the parking lot entrance again. "I need..." but doesn't finish... a thought... perhaps... that he says out loud...

"I'll come..." he says quietly, instead.

-oAo-

Rodney had offered to go back for his stuff. And it sits at the back of the Jumper now. John had said there was no need. He isn't bothered if a lack of clothes means he'd have to get back into uniform... and he isn't averse to the idea of dressing as an Athosian either. But, points out Rodney, in fairness to Teyla, he did ought to try and be as much like himself as possible... and not her husband... so... it's going to be his own clothes only and no uniform... His own music... a lot of Johnny Cash... his own films... though Rodney can't believe how much are duplicated...

He didn't finish the note to Radek. He still couldn't. Simply signed it. Thanks, John.

Once on board the Jumper... Rodney had let him sit in the pilot's seat... though Rodney had pointed out that there was very little to do... the contraption would take care of everything... though Rodney had taken the Jumper well away from Athos first, before activation on the outward trip... so that if something had gone horribly wrong, Athos wouldn't be in the immediate vicinity... There was still a connection between the device held on the Jumper and the main body of equipment on Atlantis, the plan being that the Jumper acted as a sort of satellite. And even as Rodney explains all this, it's still Radek and Atlantis that are transmitting all the necessary data through to their present position.

This has to be a dream. John could never believe he'd ever be seated here again. But a dream, a wish come true? Is this what he had always wanted? A chance to be in Atlantis again? To be with friends again?

And an hour ago... an hour ago, if anyone had ever said this was gonna be happening to him... he'd have told them they were crazy...

He has an uneasy feeling, though, that he is simply running, that his note to Radek still holds true... he is leaving... Rather than... going anywhere in particular... with a goal in mind.

What had Rodney said? 'We're not going to fight... not if we can avoid it... too many people have died already...' John could say that too. 'I'm not going to fight... not if I can avoid it... too many people have died already.'

So now, he's going to be running with these guys... though perhaps that's better than running alone...

Perhaps he's just jumping out of the frying pan into the fire... grabbing the easiest way out once it'd been offered... look what he might be getting into... if the Apollo did turn up demanding pay back...

He's lost all fight. He's sure of that. And he isn't sure, that this Rodney is taking him back, hoping he can wave that magic wand and make everything better again...

He watches Rodney making preparations, all excited like some school kid, taking a new pet home... telling John to mind the wires, because yes, John had already pulled one out accidentally trying to squeeze himself into the pilot's seat and his apology is accepted... and he doesn't know if this McKay is different from his, because he knows _his_ McKay would have bitten his head off for doing that, or it's simply this Rodney forgetting himself, because it's such a special occasion.

And he feels guilty... because he hasn't been honest with Rodney... he could tell him about the fire and the Spencers and the IOA later... but the drinking... well... there was gonna be no problem with that... he's away from all the temptation now... and the memories would fade... replaced by new ones... but he's looking at Rodney now... moving around the Jumper... cursing at something inanimate for not responding correctly... and all he can see... is Rodney... in the Control Room... standing alone... 'go and live'...

The ghost is still there...

He blinks. There's a wobble across the screen. A white flash. And Rodney announces it's done. And they're in Pegasus, directly over some cloud cover above Athos. And the sun is slanting golden rays at them. And John isn't sure what he'd been expecting... certainly... nothing so quick and undramatic.

"Take her down, Colonel. It's ok to call you, Colonel?" And John nods. And he guesses that Rodney wants to call him Colonel because he's finding it awkward calling him John or Sheppard... and it's Rodney's way of acknowledging that they're nothing more than newly met strangers after all.

Rodney radios ahead to make contact with Radek and to get Atlantis' hangar doors open. And Rodney can't resist it. "And Radek? I have cargo aboard. I repeat. I have cargo aboard."

And John's breath is long and deep as he thinks to take over the controls.

And he's flying again. He's goddamned flying again. And he closes his eyes. So grateful. So fucking grateful.

And opens them again as they break through the clouds... and...

Atlantis... blazing in a red yellow dawn... and it blurrs before him... tears in his eyes... and the Jumper goes down lower, skimming fast over golden misted tree tops... that are like waves of the sea in the early morning... he's flying again... he's flying again... an aschatee coming home...

-oAo-

"Wha... what happened?" he frowns and then looks around blearily... trying to figure where he is... a bed... it's... it's how he remembers the Infirmary. Exactly how he remembers it... but it's so real... and he remembers... Rodney... the Jumper that has taken him out of his reality... And then it's Jenny who comes into focus... and the last time he'd seen Jenny... _a_ Jenny... she'd hated him... resented him...

"I guess you could say... you fainted..." and she pulls a face.... "though why... we've yet to find out...You gave Rodney quite a scare. Poor guy, he thought you'd had a heart attack brought on by coming through the rift."

And he remembers landing...

They were all there waiting for them in the Jumper Bay. He could make out Ronon and Halling, the tallest at the front, through the windscreen. There must have been a hundred people or more congregated in the small space. Those at the back jumping up for a better view.

'Your welcoming committee, I think,' beamed Rodney and was about to go out the hatch.

'McKay... _Rodney_... I can't...' And things went white and misty and he thinks he might have fallen into the arms of a surprised Rodney...

Jenny is holding his wrist, checking his pulse. And there's a blood pressure cuff loose on his bicep.

"How long... how long have I been out?"

"Hmm..." she's considering, " long enough to get you in here, pop you under the scanner, find out it actually _isn't_ a heart attack... get your boots off... You've been out cold for twenty minutes," she concludes.

Happy with his pulse, she pulls up a stool. "Had any spells like this before?"

He shakes his head.

"I see that you've had a recent knock on the head... and another a few days back... with stitches... the scanner's showing nothing abnormal... if you can call a hairline fracture that's healing normal... You keep on falling over?"

"No." Though he had... only yesterday...

"Any headache, dizziness now?"

"A bit. Yeah."

"Want anything for it?" And she's clicking on a pen-light, pulled out of a pocket, indicating that she needs to examine each of his eyes.

"No. I'm fine." And he's good and lets her blind him and dutifully looks up to corners of the Infirmiary as instructed... because... damn... he _fainted?_

"How did you get the stitches?"

"Someone hit me."

"Weren't we very popular back on your Earth then?" she smiles.

"Not with these guys."

"Rodney says... you seemed... how can I put this?... you took one look at the crowd and took fright... You suffer from agoraphobia? Any sort of panic attacks?"

Hell, he can't hardly remember what agoraphobia is.

"No."

"I'll take bloods if that's ok?"

"Sure." She stands and reaches for a tray of medical stuff on the bedside table she's had ready and commences to put on gloves.

"This probably _is_ nothing more than the effects of the rift travel. Hopefully, then, it won't be long term... but... you haven't exactly been taking care of yourself, have you? Signs are that you're slightly anaemic... bloods will confirm that... Rodney says you've been living the bachelor life... take outs, huh?"

Her gloves snap as she puts them on and he flinches at the noise.

"Yeah."

"Well, nothing but fresh fruits, veggies and red meat from now on. Sort of mandatory. That's all there is. Perhaps coming here is the sort of health cure you need... anyway... it's good to see you." and she smiles again. " though it was all a bit sudden... one minute we were questionning the wisdom of Rodney carrying this out... and the next... he's gone off in the dead of the night to collect you."

"He didn't tell you guys first?"

"You know Rodney... or... perhaps you don't... anyway... it's certainly doing Rodney a world of good already, so thanks for coming... though it's kinda weird... with our John being... well, _dead. _And you turn up... his spitting image... shame that the first thing we have to do is poke you full of needles."

And she's ready with one already. And searching his arm for a vein. "Just a little prick... There." And she wipes his elbow clean with the antiseptic pad and presses down hard. And satisfied, slaps a plaster on. And then produces another needle.

"The scanner also showed extensive past trauma..." she says, without looking up from drawing the second lot of blood, "that happened when... " She wants to finish that by saying when Atlantis was destroyed... and John knows that Rodney would have filled her in by now... told them all by now... well, at least it's going to save him the trouble...

"You can say... I won't fall apart..."

She looks up at him then. Oddly. And then immediately looks down again. "No. I guess you wouldn't... there... we're done. But more of the questions I'm afraid. I just need some records up and running for you. What line of work were you in when the military retired you?" Rodney has told her of his discharge too.

"I wandered about a bit. A few months. Then opened a surf shack. A few months."

"A surf shack? Really? And how did that go?"

"Got burnt down..."

"Crap! That's awful. An accident? Or someone burnt it down? The same guys that...?" And she points to her head.

"Yeah."

"You really weren't very popular..."

And he throws her a wry look. "Not with them... no... And that's the point when Rodney came in..."

"But... all this must have made it difficult to settle down... It couldn't have been good for you... injuries, losing guys... " And suddenly she won't look at him, as she clears up the area she was working in. "It can trigger off... all sorts of things..." and she's being cagey...

"Jenny in my world survived...." He isn't sure if that's what she's rooting for. His not even sure why he said it... he guesses Jenny being here is enough to bring up the memory... trigger... trigger off memories... of Jenny... looking at him across the Daedalus... that way... resenting him... resenting him being alive when Rodney wasn't...

"She did? And was she, you know, married to Rodney?"

He nods.

"This is all weird... to think that there's all these different realities... going through all these different or similar events... so... how did she react? To... to... Rodney... you know?"

He can't say that she went to pieces. He can't say that... when in his own way... that could be said to have happened to him...

"She blamed me," which was also true, so he can say that.

"Oh... I'm sorry," apologising for the other Jenny. "Why do you think that was?"

"I don't know... perhaps things could have been done differently. Perhaps... I... I... could have done things a little differently..." And he goes quiet and he isn't going to say any more than that... And he flexes his arm that just throbs a little.

"Then.... that was something else to have to live with..."

"I don't know where she went-"

"-No. I meant... you... you had to live with all of this..."

He looks up to find her staring back at him intently.

"I don't know..." and he feels flustered...

"You... I suspect that _you_ blame you too, you know..." She sighs, because she's gonna need to explain where she's coming from. "The scan's showing indications of some slight liver damage, John. The bloods will confirm that too. The drinking started at that time?"

He turns away. To look at nothing more important than the adjacent bed.

"I'm your doctor now, John. This is in strictest confidence. But... I think you owe it to Rodney to tell him... He was convinced you see... that you were... _suffering_... for the want of a better word... He thinks... naively... I'm his wife and probably I shouldn't be talking about him like this... but he thinks bringing you here will make things better... that being with the Team with be the instant cure... but he's got so carried away... with the science... seeing you all in one piece and presumably ok... he's forgotten all that... he's sort of protected by cloud nine at the moment... forgotten that you might still have problems... that won't go away overnight like he imagines..." She pauses. "There. That's my speech over and done with...."

He stares down to the bottom of the bed, to his feet. He doesn't know what to say... "The liver... I didn't think it could happen that quickly..."

"Afraid so... if you were going at it hard enough... you stop now... and you can reverse the process... the liver's good like that... regenerates, you see... though that's probably not why you fainted... that was probably down to any combination of the above reasons... and hopefully was an isolated incident... if you need any help to stop though... I'm here... but anyway... this is nearly an alcohol free zone... we haven't had any supplies of _anything_ for a month now... like I said... coming here is probably the best health cure for you..." And she pulls a face.

"It was only ever a nightcap... I... could never sleep..."

"I can imagine."

"I still can't... and even in the day... bad thoughts..."

"Yeah... I can believe it... why didn't you get something prescribed?"

"Dunno." Too proud. Sign of weakness. And some people feel they get dependent on those too.

"Do you want something now?"

"No."

"If you should change your mind..." And then sighs, adding brightly, "Anyway, you're in here for observation for the next couple of hours... I'm keeping everyone well away, so, if I were you, I'd catch up on some rest... I think that's the best thing for now... You want some scrubs or are you ok like that?" He's still in the clothes he travelled in.

"No... I'm good. Thanks."

"Here." And she removes the blood pressure cuff. "Get yourself comfortable." And she lowers the back of the bed. And he leans forward so she can plump up his pillows for him.

"How did... how did Rodney know... that things weren't... good for me?" he picks up the courage to ask... and it needs courage... because it's not your everyday sort of question... and he'd never dare ask Rodney directly.

Jenny smiles. "Well... he claims... he could just sense it... Rodney into psychic stuff?... I mean Rodney, huh?... I guess, he's still going through his own tough patch..." And her smile fades. "Makes him more empathic?... I dunno... He carries a video of Sheppard's... our Sheppard's... murder round his neck... courtesy of Kavanagh? You knew a Kavanagh? They got him to doctor the tapes... to make it look like an accident... but Kavanagh sent us the originals... and Rodney now won't be parted from it... it sounds kind of sick... another one who blames himself you see... he feels he should have gone back to Earth instead of Sheppard... and then things might have turned out differently... and then the Daedalus incident..."

"How did that happen?"

"Teyla's turn then... She was sitting in the Chair... fired on the ship, thinking she was seeing you fire on a alien ship... and now you say that's exactly what happened... Rodney convinced himself that the partition was so thin between the two realities that they were able to sense these things... and then when Ronon started too... that sort of clinched matters..."

"Right." And he nods, understanding... understanding that this hadn't happened in reverse... he hadn't been aware of their hard times... "Teyla, then has the ATA gene?"

"No... Rodney didn't tell you? She's carrying a daughter. And the daughter has the gene."

"She's... No. He didn't say..." And that threw him... and the fact that Rodney had been holding back on stuff too... but he guessed that Rodney was just trying to be tactful...

"Oh... well, he must have just overlooked it... anyway..." and she pats him on the leg, leaving, "you get some sleep, huh?"

He lays down and awkwardly curls over and closes his eyes and thinks of all the things that Jenny has said... about Rodney... about the Daedalus... about Teyla... about a Sheppard who has left behind a family... and thinks... about being here in Atlantis... and in the haze, before he falls asleep... he's aware of a familiar rhythm, beat... but... this isn't his Atlantis... they have their own story... he has his own... and he feels... separate... after all... they'd said they could sense his... unhappiness... why had he never felt their's?... so wrapped up in his own grief, he's been overwhelmed... couldn't see or feel beyond it...

And he reckons that Rodney... despite his claims... is after that replacement... and Sheppard isn't sure... isn't sure he can do that... replace their Sheppard... isn't sure... isn't sure they can replace his Atlantis... because...

But why did he agree to come?... he'd been that desperate for some place to go?...

A replacement Atlantis... but the hurt isn't going away... more... it's already getting worse... seeing Atlantis here... whole and complete... seeing Rodney... seeing Ronon... seeing Ronon who doesn't stare with lifeless eyes... and when he meets Teyla... how will that be?...

The ghosts are still here... they've come with him...

And falling asleep, he hears the beating of his own heart, his ear pressed close to the pillow... the rhythm, the beat of aschatee wings... but the bird circles and circles round the towers... no place to go... no place to go... as lonely as ever...

-oAo-


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"Hey! A beer on the pier?"

"No... I'm fine."

"You refusing a beer?" and Rodney opens the fridge door and pulls out a six pack. "Then you're not the Sheppard we knew and loved..." he banters, finding the snacks that Jenny thinks she's hidden from him.

"I shouldn't turn down that sort offer... stocks are getting low... but everyone suspects he's got a secret stash somewhere..." nods Ronon, who takes hold of the beer when Rodney finds himself burdened down with too many packs.

"I'm ok." And Rodney notices that he swallows hard. They've overcrowded him like some kind of visiting dignitary. Perhaps he needs his own space. Time to be alone. They've shown him to a room. Not the best, but it hardly seemed fair to ask the Athosians with the best views to move on out... though some had offered... including Halling... but Sheppard wouldn't have it.

"Well, you'll come out with us?" Rodney feels disappointed. "I know there's no sea... but..." it'd be good to break the ice, thinks Rodney. "Teyla will be along later, she's still trying to get Tagan down for his nap." Though Rodney's starting to suspect she's trying to avoid meeting Sheppard... when asked... she always seems to have some excuse to delay.

"Perhaps you'd like something stronger... I have Satequila..." Ronon's name for his own brewed liquor based on a recipe that he remembers of his grandfather's.

"Yeah, _'quila'_ being the operative word... lets not try and _kill _the Colonel now he's here, hmmm?"

"I'm fine... some juice... and yeah, the pier is ok."

"You're not teetotal?"

"Head's a bit fuzzy... that's all."

"Not still the effects of the rift travel?... Did Jenny look you over enough? What checks did she do?" Rodney knows she's his wife... but fallibility is a doctor's disease all the same. This Sheppard really does look ill, even now he's had a chance to shower, shave and freshen up.

"McKay. Don't... don't... fuss... I'm ok."

"Yeah... leave him alone..." agrees Ronon, with the hint of a threat.

They're soon sitting out on the pier with their goodies stowed around them. Legs dangling, hanging over the edge. A thirty foot drop straight down. Normally Rodney wouldn't do this. But he won't admit to the vertigo.

"I know," he says with his mouth full, "we can't technically, call it a pier any more. But at least we have a view of the lake. Good, huh?"

"Are they aschatee?" asks Sheppard suddenly, squinting, looking over to the reed beds on the far side. Sheppard... who's been too quiet, too reserved... so perhaps the juice is livening him up... but he doesn't seem happy to be here... and Rodney thinks... he ought to be... he really ought to be... and if Rodney could do anything to make him happy... then he would... perhaps this Sheppard is just like that... quieter, more reserved... more thoughtful, than their Sheppard had been... it'll probably just take time to adjust... and Rodney hopes that they have that time... that the Apollo won't come any time soon... but this Sheppard hadn't seemed quite this quiet in the parking lot... perhaps... perhaps he's changed his mind...

"You interested in the aschatee? You... er..." Correction. "Our Sheppard never was... but you are?"

"I guess." _...all those dreams... all those dreams... Atlantis talking to him..._

"Yeah. A pair came with us... got a nest in the South Tower... got trapped under the Shield when we moved... we thought they'd fly off to the ocean... but they decided to stay..." Rodney allows Ronon to explain while he opens a can, messily making a frothy brown puddle between him and Sheppard.

Their Sheppard would have called him an idiot... and other things... this one just looks down at the pool and says nothing...

"I was just telling Ronon, the other day... how they are like the albatross back on Earth..." and Rodney sips his beer noisily... "Latin name, diomedea exulans.... diomedea... for the companions of the Greek warrior Diomedes who changed into birds... exulans from exile... wanderer... because of their long distance flights..."

He sounds like Woolsey reeling off these facts. He'll make a good Commander yet...

But the facts seem to fail to impress... and no one says anything. They drink and... it all starts to feel a little uncomfortable. So much for breaking the ice... Rodney feels like they're stuck in the biggest glacial crevice ever... and he's praying that Teyla comes along soon and rescues them...

It was out on the pier, once, that he had tried to say good bye to his Sheppard, but it feels a whole lot harder to say hello to this one...

And of course, Ronon is no help... and Rodney's mind gropes for a selection of possible questions... but many of them he's asked already... mundane stuff like, how much do you charge for an hour's rental of a surf board then?... and, is your Radek as much as a pain in the butt as our Radek?... so, it really would be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find more... and this Sheppard has answered them all so simply and succinctly that it's impossible to start up a conversation... it's nearly like the guy just doesn't want to talk... perhaps Rodney should leave it at that... especially as Rodney, well, all he wants to ask is... well, what's bugging you?... but he knows that too... Sheppard, the guy sitting next to him... has lost all his Team, lost his Atlantis... there's a space... an awful chasm more like... and it's not going to be filled overnight... and Rodney knows about spaces... he has a video hanging round his neck that tells him about those...

What about: life is a line, discuss? Probably too deep for someone recuperating from... fainting... ok... forgive Rodney McKay for being tactless, but...

"So... Sheppard? Why in your world didn't you... you know... take an interest in Teyla?"

Ronon splutters into his beer and nearly chokes.

That bad, huh?

But Sheppard calmly sips his juice, considering his reply.

"There were rules. No fraternising with the natives. As military commander, I had to set an example, I suppose..."

"Hm... I think we had that rule too..."

There's a movement behind them. And Rodney turns... and its Teyla standing at the doorway. And the three men scramble to their feet, to say hi, because it's the gentlemanly thing to do, and Teyla... Teyla just stands there... doesn't come forward... and Rodney frowns and he's puzzled... Teyla just stands there and stares... at Sheppard.... Did she hear something?... and... they're too far away to tell for sure, but Rodney's certain there are tears in her eyes... and Sheppard looks back... turns away... awkward... and then looks at her again... that look of his... sorry, so sorry... and she says nothing... shakes her head... turns quickly then... and disappears back through the door...

"I'll go after her..." and Ronon stoops to put down his beer and leaves too.

And there's the uncomfortable silence again...

"You think I should go too?" asks Rodney eventually, though he's been thinking the question over and over already.

"I dunno..." says Sheppard and his voice is barely audible. And then... "Rodney?"

"Hmm?" And Rodney glances at him, and turns away because he hates to see Sheppard hurting... and he is... Rodney has brought him through the rift to try and stop this... but it hasn't stopped... there is nothing he can do to stop this... he's done more than move mountains... but it's not enough...

"This was a mistake. Teyla... Teyla will never accept me... You have to take me back..." And when Rodney had first come out onto the pier, he hadn't expected this sort of conversation...

"She just needs time... it's shock you see... you... um... you _are_ identical..."

"Rodney... things are never that easy..." Sheppard says hoarsely.

"And, and... I... can't take you back... I've told you... it'll use up too many resources..." But Sheppard is already walking off.

"Where are you going?" He says to Sheppard's back. And Sheppard stops. And doesn't turn. But says:

"I dunno... try and apologise?" What for? _For being here?_

And Rodney, hesitates, looking back at the abandoned drinks and then follows after Sheppard. Rodney's plans are all falling apart... because life... life just doesn't follow a straight line... you can never predict... you can never say do this and do that, and this will be the outcome... life has a way of hiding round blind corners...

-oAo-

She is standing facing Ronon. They've been talking. Teyla has also been crying. They both look his way as he walks through the door. Rodney follows in behind. Though John's hardly aware of Rodney or Ronon. He's only aware of Teyla standing there.

He remembers once asking for Teyla. Wanting to hear her voice. When he lay injured. When the wind and rain beat down on the canvas tent. Wanting to know that he wasn't the only one to survive. Holding on to hope that he hadn't completely lost everything and everyone...

'We never found her...' said Lorne.

She had died then. And finally... John Sheppard had too.

"Teyla..."

She is so real. So real. She has been a ghost for so long... He's wants to touch her to make sure she is real.

Her eyes are bright with tears.

And she is holding a child. A little under two years of age. With dark hair. Dark features. Who squirms and twists in his mother's arms. Reaching out. Stretching out towards him...

"Da da! Da da!" The child squeals. And it's pure delight. Happiness in the boy's face. Out of place. Ronon, Teyla, John. Rodney. Strained. Distraught.

The boy fidgets so much, fighting against his mother's hold that she is forced to put him down.

"Da da. Da da." And he walks unsteadily across the floor.

"I'm not your..."

And John catches the shake of her head, sees the pleading in her eyes, sees her mouth the words: 'please don't.'

And he understands. Understands that he has a role to play. For Tagan's sake.

And he crouches down, and scoops up the child in his arms, feeling the warmth of the small, small body against his, that is so real.

Holds the child tight to his chest. Like he's afraid to lose him. Holds a hand over the child's head that nestles on his shoulder.

"How yer doing, little fella?"

Nuzzles his face into the boy's black hair.

"How yer doing, little fella?"

Kisses the child's head, over and over.

Sheppard. Unable to hold back the sobs. Unable to control the grief that now racks his body.

"Missed you. Missed you. Oh God, I missed you, so very much."

-oAo-

They give him space.

With Rodney it is accidental. He's busy. Trying to block any future Wraith nocturnal visitations. Though it'd be like shutting the gate after the cows have gone from the point of view of keeping Todd away... and that memory still manages to send shivers down his spine. He's also trying to organize some way of communicating with the Apollo without revealing Atlantis position if, no, probably _when_ the Earth vessel turns up.

That episode with Tagan has shown just how deep the hurt is with Sheppard.

And when Rodney catches occasional glimpses of Sheppard... which is rare... as Rodney knows he is shutting himself in his room... going for walks or jogging... when and where he won't meet people... whenever Rodney sees Sheppard, he is gazing out of windows... watching the aschatee... looking lost...

And Rodney remembers a pet cat he had once as a boy, how they'd moved house, and the cat had spent all its time, sitting on a sill, mournfully, looking out the window, because they'd had to keep it indoors, until it had settled... and when they'd let it out for the first time... it ran away... and they never saw it again...

And Rodney tries to think positive... give him time, give him space and he'll come round.

And Sheppard _did_ take a quiet interest in the affairs of Atlantis when once they'd met up. So it's not all hopeless.

'You know, you're going to have to make contact, when the Apollo gets here... Lorne might have gotten your point over... they might just be trying to find you... to tell you it's all ok... '

'I know... I know. That's why I'm developing some form of encrypted messaging... one where they can't possibly determine the origin.'

'But they could still find you... one day... and if they're hostile... what are you going to do?'

'They might not find us... they might not even bother trying... they might be too busy trying to take over Earth... I don't know... I don't know... we turn tail and run... that had always been the plan... we're not fighting...'

And Sheppard nods his head, understanding. And Rodney believes that Sheppard doesn't want to fight either.

And Rodney meets up with Teyla. 'How, uh, do you find him?'

She considers her reply. 'I have no problems with him. He is good with Tagan.' As in those times when he isn't alone, Sheppard's playing with the toddler, allowing Teyla to be busy with JJ, or to take a nap. 'I think, perhaps, that I find him acceptable as he is not like my John... he is... he is very quiet... he is... not very happy... '

'No... no... he's not...' Rodney is forced to agree.

'Sometimes I wonder if he likes us... to hide away like he does... as if... well, sometimes I also wonder if he wishes to leave us, Rodney...'

And of course, Sheppard had said that once, but Rodney hopes he's forgotten now...

Ronon is asked the same question. And the Satedan shrugs.

'Doesn't talk much.' And Ronon would know. 'When we went hunting, he went off on his own for a while. Halling couldn't understand it. He was ready to give him more lessons with the bow and arrow. He's ok with the gun. And not bad with the spear. His hand isn't interfering. His aim is still in though he says he hasn't shot at anything for a while.'

'No. No. No. Spare me all this detail... tell me... _how_ he is...'

'I told you... he went off on his own.'

'That's it?' And sometimes this guy is so exasperating... like trying to get water out of a stone... when you _know_ its one of the water bearing rocks and it's _there..._

'And...' But Ronon doesn't finish.

_'And_... Go on.' Rodney encourages.

'It's nothing.'

'Go on.'

And the Satedan reluctantly says. 'We had Satequila with us... to warm up... it's cold with the early morning.'

'Yeah. Yeah. I've heard _that_ before.'

'I'm not going to criticize but... Sheppard drank more freely than he ought... we warned him... small doses... and he accepted the gift of the remainder of the earthenware jar... and took it with him...'

'So... what does all this signify?'

And Ronon gives him his 'don't be so obtuse' look, or, translated into simple basic Satedan... 'don't be a fool,' with expletives deleted.

And the penny drops.

'He... _drinks_?' Asks Rodney amazed. 'And we thought... _I _thought he was teetotal?'

And Ronon nods.

-oAo-

He walks most of the time... There seems to be a whisper. Give him space. Give him time.

But it makes matters worse... it feels like everyone is avoiding him...

Twice he accompanies Ronon hunting.

Hunting is better than walking.

It takes him away from Atlantis. When he's in Atlantis, when he's walking round or inside, he sees more... sees more memories... a corridor that is now whole... before his eyes... crumples... it's occupants... bend over double... coughing and choking on acrid smoke and dust... or lay bloodied in the rubble... eyes staring wide at nothingness...

Conversation is impossible... especially with Ronon, Teyla and Rodney... he sees their faces... and he has to push away all details of their deaths... before he can speak... and he feels stupid... they wait expectantly for some reply... and by the time he pushes away the memory... he's forgotten what's been asked...

It's all too real here.

Perhaps he needs to go back... he's seen all of these die... nothing will replace them... it's _his Team's_ memories that he holds... nothing can change that... and a part of him died with them... he just can't throw off that feeling... even though so many of those memories are these guys' memories too... nothing can change that... he can't help it... he feels so alone here... he doesn't belong here...

He knows they're trying. Trying to help him settle in. Trying to make him feel more welcome. But he knows he puzzles them. They can't understand... what it is that's holding him back...

He takes a Jumper up into space... to escape... They allow it. The whisper. The looks. Give him time...

With Tagan, he is ok. With JJ. But then...

He's expected to be a substitute... fit into dead man's shoes... Rodney denies it... well, a little... but he can't live up to their expectations... he's failed... he's lost people... and he's weak... he couldn't make a life for himself work... perhaps he needs to go back to Earth just to prove he can... one more time...

He allows the Jumper to drift... and watches the blackness of space and takes out the bottle of Satequila.

He likes to be in the Jumper. His crippled hand isn't a problem flying a Jumper. He wishes he could have persuaded the Air Force that.

He likes the solitude. Him and the stars.

So why come back with Rodney?...

They're living on borrowed time here. Holding their breath. There's been no signal from Lorne. Over two weeks and no sign of the Apollo. All promising Rodney thinks. Possibly an indication that Earth may be embroiled in some war with the Trust. But it's Atlantis' duty to help out. Rodney can't keep hiding in the shallows for ever...

But he won't point it out... his thoughts... because it'd give Rodney the wrong message... it sorta says he could take control again... he could take over from where their John left off...

But he's certain that the other John didn't lay awake at night... thinking... or spend his time watching the aschatee...

He likes the solitude. Him and the stars.

Though it's not like the ocean...

Here, he can't say goodbye in that same way... but then he never had...

'What was your Teyla like?'

Rodney was always tactless. Teyla was always... direct... but he still wasn't prepared for the question... He knew he had reddened. He knew she was only attempting to draw him out. She was drinking herbal tea and had placed both the youngsters on the mat beside him as he tried fixing a toy plane that was broken.

'I'm sorry... this is impertinent of me. Please forgive me, and forget that I ever asked.'

'It's ok...' he had said, slowly putting down the plane. 'You... she... were the same...' But they weren't were they?... the biggest difference between the two realities... that in one... Sheppard and Teyla had been married... until damned bad luck screwed everything... and she wanted to know why that had never happened in his reality... he can sense it... he feels uncomfortable... he wishes that Ronon was still here... but Ronon had gone off with Halling... Ronon's not into pity...

He decided to keep everything factual. A straight explanation.

'Teyla married an Athosian called Kanaan and they had a son called Torren John.'

'Torren John?'

'Torren for her father.'

'As Tagan for mine. And John? For you?'

'Yes.'

'Why is that?'

'I... dunno.'

'Hmmm... and I knew Kanaan as a young man. Sadly he was taken in the same Wraith culling as my father. What became of Kanaan in your world? Did he survive Atlantis?'

'He wasn't on Atlantis... He'd taken Torren John to live with the Athosians so that the boy would learn the customs of the Athosians... Teyla chose to remain as a part of my Team, to remain serving Atlantis, though she went back and visited regularly.' And he had absent-mindedly pushed a dumper truck up the ramp of the little garage to keep Tagan occupied.

'That must have been a difficult decision for her... and now... she leaves behind a widower and a child that is motherless... '

And he had nodded miserably.

'I also was accustomed to visiting my people and it was while I was away on such a visit that John left Atlantis for the last time. The circumstances of John's death were regrettable but it is the fact that I was unable to say goodbye to John that I regret most... It is foolish of me... but I cannot even remember our last words to one another... not exactly... and then, to make this all so much worse... they...' and she looked to the window, 'I was not even permitted to say farewell, even in death... They would not release his body to me... and... and... there is no end to grief when you cannot say goodbye...'

-oAo-

"I think... I think I _do_ need to go back," he tells Rodney, during their second session on the pier. He's said this once before but the idea keeps going round and round in his head... like all the other thoughts... He's said this once before but it's still hits Rodney like a bombshell.

"What! You only just got here! How can you say that!" Rodney doesn't ask why. John's long face. His silences. The way he shuts himself in his room. All these tell Rodney why. So he shouldn't be that surprised. He should be expecting it.

John doesn't answer.

"Just give it some time..." which seems to be Rodney's favourite response these days.

Perhaps he just has _too_ much time on his hands... to keep thinking...

"Look, Teyla's accepted you, now. Tagan certainly has. That's got to prove something, hasn't it? No one's expecting you two guys to marry or anything..."

"Rodney..." and this is something that he's been thinking about too... and it seems to support why he should leave, that the bond with this Team isn't as strong as it should be... that the bond with his own Team is just so... powerful, it's still pulling him all ways, "tell me why... I couldn't sense what was happening to you guys... yet you had a good idea... what was happening to me?"

"I don't know... do I get time to figure it out? Like... ten years? And if I do figure it out, is there a bonus... will you stay...? I don't know... Perhaps it's to do with Atlantis. Atlantis acting as some sort of transmitter... a wire... a feed... And because your Atlantis had been destroyed... you'd sorta lost that connection."

_The aschatee calls to him... the aschatee calls of Atlantis' pain to him... perhaps she called of the others' pain too..._

John thinks that might be the answer, but he still doesn't feel convinced to want to stay. He sometimes feels that he was so wound up in his grief... so wrapped up in its intensity... nothing would have made it through...

And Rodney can see he's not convinced.

"I'm sure... I'm sure it isn't because you think any less of us." He hopes not. No. He's sure, it's not...

"You try and persuade him," Rodney says desperately to Ronon, who's lazily leaning up against a wall, behind them.

"Me? What do you want me to say?"

"Anything! As long as it persuades him!"

"What's the point? You said you weren't going to open the rift again. So he can't go."

"I know... I know... but I'm not... that hard... if I've made a mistake over this, I'll own up to it."

Oh really? Say Ronon's eyebrows. But he languidly pushes himself off the wall and comes over to sit beside John.

"Stay for the sake of the children," is Ronon's argument.

"I thought I'd just said that!" exclaims Rodney. But John simply concentrates on what Ronon has to say.

"Yeah... I've thought about that..." How would any of them explain to Tagan, if he left, that his father had finally gone and was never coming back this time round. Perhaps he's being selfish... not to consider the boy's feelings... Tagan... When he'd held Tagan that first time... it'd been the one time he felt like he _did _belong... and it's only with Tagan that he feels that... Why deny himself that?... What's wrong with him that he wants to leave that?...

"But at some point... Tagan is going to find out... that I'm not his father... and I'm not happy... conning him like this..."

"Look, Sheppard..." And Ronon sighs, "I'm no different to your Ronon. You know that. I had seven years as a Runner. But before that, you know that I lost everything too. So I'm no different to you either." And yeah, Ronon had had it worse then. And John feels bad. And bites his lip. Because it wasn't as if John had lost a wife... "Don't you think that I didn't nearly give up? Ever in that time... thought about it?-"

"-it's not like I'm giving up. Returning isn't giving up. I don't... I dunno..." _I don't feel like_ I _belong_.

"You just need time to adjust. I did when I first came here."

"Yeah. That's what everyone keeps telling me. But with you, it was different... _literally_ different... with me... it's all the same... I shouldn't need... time to adjust... it's the same. Same Atlantis. Same people."

"No. You know what you problem is? Guilt."

"Guilt? How d'yer make that out?"

"Yeah." And Ronon confirms the idea with a nod. "It's guilt. You get used to struggling... it don't seem right when someone just hands you something... what you've been waiting for, for so long... so long for somewhere to go to... guys to be with... don't seem right when it's suddenly all so easy... I know... coz that's how I felt..."

And John nods his head slowly. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve being with any of them.

And Rodney's convinced that he's convinced now.

"For the strong silent big guy type, that was good! You should speak up more often!" And Ronon rolls his eyes and gets up to go back to his wall, giving John a reassuring pat on the shoulder on the way.

-oAo-

He shuts himself in his quarters. Two whole days. Coming out for a jog. Or a meal. On the evening of the second, Rodney comes to his room and he's serious. John knows that because he doesn't talk immediately and just goes straight to the window and gazes out. As much as he can through John's half drawn curtains.

"We've picked up the Apollo," he says grimly. And John couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Rodney didn't come to quiz him about staying in his room... but... this was still serious.

"How far out?"

"Twenty two hours when we first spotted it. Six hours away now."

"Crap..." And Rodney hadn't thought to tell him for sixteen of those hours?

"Yeah... crap... there's always an outside chance, they might not be heading this way... then again..." he turns to John. "We need to deactivate your transmitter."

"Sure."

"Of course, it would be best to remove it entirely... we've all done it... so there's no possibility of it accidentally transmitting... but I'll understand it if... you don't want to..." He's acting like... he believes that John still wants to leave... and hiding in his room for two days has been a pretty strong indicator of that...

"It's ok."

"It doesn't hurt. You know it won't, if _I _say that. Local anaesthetic."

"It's ok. I'll get myself down to Jenny right away." And then if he goes back to his Earth, Lennox won't be able to find him... so he's really not bothered.

There's an uncomfortable silence. And Rodney's eyes are flitting around the room. It's hot and stuffy in here. It smells of the contents of an earthenware jug. And Rodney's not stupid.

"What are you going to do?" asks John. Trying to head him off on his search... but wanting to know anyway.

"I was sort of hoping you could tell me... but this isn't your problem, is it?" Says Rodney cuttingly.

"Rodney..."

"Is it me or is it hot in here?!" And he returns to the window and pulls back the curtains hard... to reveal the hastily hidden bottle. "What's this?"

"Hey!"

"You been drinking this stuff? You know that Woolsey banned this? You know what this can do to a guy! This is another bottle from Ronon? How irresponsible can he get?!"

"Rodney... lighten up... I just use it as a nightcap... and Ronon _told_ you?... I don't sleep... even here on Atlantis."

"It's the middle of the day!" screeches Rodney. "And yes! Ronon told me! Because we're like... _friends_... we tell one another stuff! _You_ weren't ever going to, were you? Skulking in here!" And then he storms over to the kitchenette sink, and starts to pour the contents of the jar down the drain. John's over to his side in an instant and grabs at his arm. And John's feeling heated now.

"Look! This is none of your goddamned business!" And it all feels like deja vu with Radek. And the earthenware bottle flies out of Rodney's hand, drops to the floor, rolls violently and hits the wall. A noise like... gunfire. The pottery shattering... And John stares at it...

But Rodney hasn't finished with him yet.

"What the hell are you playing at?! So this is why you're in such a hurry to get back to Earth?! 'Fraid you're going to run out of booze?! If you're not blind to what you're doing, you soon will be! I saved you and you screw yourself?!"

"I am not an alcho- what do you mean, _you _saved me?!" And they're face to face, glaring at each other.

"Yeah, I saved you!"

"You saved me?!"

"Yeah, I saved you!"

"How can you say that?! I didn't even need 'saving' as you put it, you sanctimonious bastard!"

"No? You thought I was just providing you with a taxi service?! Then how come I _knew _you needed... rescuing, stroke," and he draws a diagonal line in the air, "collecting? How come I knew you were 'there'?! How come Teyla linked to you via the Chair? How come Ronon saw you on the beach? How come even Tagan sensed you... if it weren't that we couldn't feel your.... your... goddamned pain! You needed rescuing! You needed rescuing, you freaking idiot!... you... you... needed rescuing... you needed saving... you... needed saving from... from" And Rodney waves a hand in the air, uselessly and slumps down into a chair... Suddenly defeated. Exhausted.

"Rodney... I'm sorry..." Rodney didn't need this. He didn't need this on top of hearing about the Apollo.

"You… you weren't in a cell... but you needed saving... you needed saving just the same..." and Rodney wipes a hand over his face and John's not sure that it's not moist. "And it wasn't just because of you losing Atlantis, was it? You were driving yourself into a shit hole... And now... you're doing it here..."

"I... I don't have a problem."

"And... I say that you do. And you know what that problem is?" and he stands to yell at John some more. "Wallowing in all this self pity! Look! I'm not trying to score points here! But _hello_! We've lost Sheppard and killed off the whole crew of the Daedalus! And I think those sort of numbers speak for themselves. And... and... no... no... you could never replace our John, but... come on! At least, meet us half-way, huh? Or you don't want to be obliged to us, that's it? It's too much to say thanks, huh?" He decides something and makes for the door without looking John's way. "Scrap the transmitter. I'll go and get the Jumper ready to take you back, before the Apollo gets here. Because... suddenly, I'm not even sure if I want you here any more."

"Rodney..."

And he comes back into the room, back to Sheppard again. An afterthought. "What is so wrong with us helping you? You shut yourself away. You won't speak to us. And when you do it's to say you want to leave... What is so wrong with us helping you? Isn't that what _your_ Team did for one another? I thought that was the unwritten rule. The John Sheppard Law Number One. No one gets left behind. No one gets left to cope on their own. Didn't you have that in your reality? Have I gotten that so badly wrong? I thought they were the same. Two identical railway tracks. Did I get it so completely wrong? Did I honestly do that? Well, I never was much good at anything outside of science... that will teach me to meddle in things that don't concern me..." And he sniffs loudly. "See you down at the Jumper bay... half an hour give you enough time to pack?"

-oAo-


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

He dumps his bags down on the floor. And the noise echoes round the empty Jumper Bay. No sign of Rodney. Or any Rodney paraphernalia. Jumper Three, the one that's been rigged with the rift device, sits with its hatch closed.

Out of habit, he looks to his watch. He can't exactly complain if Rodney is late though... but this is stupid, waiting around here. They'd given him an ear piece but he seldom used it and left it behind in his room.

Perhaps... Rodney has changed his mind... perhaps he's hoping that John has changed his. But John doesn't know what to think anymore. All through the time that he's packing... One moment, he thinks he'll stay... and the next, he feels he can't. And that's how it's always been... But mostly he knows he wants to stay. Mostly he knows he has to apologise to Rodney. Big time.

Rodney saved him. Saved him while he walked on the beach that night. If only Rodney knew the truth.

But some people can't be saved. Not even from themselves. And he guesses he's one of them.

And it's Ronon's arguments more than anything that persuaded him to stay. For the sake of Tagan. Because he knows he will miss the little guy like hell. And he holds the bridge of his nose as if to stop the prick of tears... But Tagan will be ok. He has plenty of uncles to take care of him. He doesn't need a mixed-up replacement dada.

And Ronon's other point... that he can't settle because of guilt... because it all seems too easy... when he's had it so tough...

That's it... self-pity again... look at these guys... the shadow of the Apollo looming over them... the regret of killing the crew of the Daedalus... having to come to terms with the death of their John... doing the best they can...

And he kicks his feet at the hard unyielding floor... frustration at himself...

And how the hell did he ever get to... here? Here? This point in time. This place. Alone in an empty Jumper hangar. A million miles from Earth. All he owns in a couple of bags. Once he'd been a kid, who had wanted to fly. Once he'd been a chopper pilot in Afghanistan. Once he'd tossed a coin to decide to come to a far off city called Atlantis... His life... a line of events... linear... one thing leading to another... But until the destruction of Atlantis, he'd sorta felt... well... in control of that line... _some_... now... he was... here... and here, leaving like this, wasn't where he wanted to be... and he couldn't ever reverse that line... and get his Team back... but this Team... were willing to commit to him... they'd shown that, by bringing him here... though he'd been blinded by that self-pity... he could, perhaps, reverse a little ways down that line... and do that apologising... to Rodney... big time... and be in control again...

And perhaps... if Rodney really wants him to leave... and he looks to the exit... he should say goodbye... to Ronon... to Teyla... Though if Rodney has told them already, that he is leaving, then their absence here would show... well, he's just about upset everyone now... seems like he's snubbed them... blanked them out... given them the silent treatment...

He doesn't want to go... he really doesn't want to go... nowhere to go... he has nowhere to go... he might as well stay... the circling aschatee with nowhere to go... he so longed to belong here... when he first flew the Jumper again... when he first held Tagan... he so longed to belong...

A noise at the exit and it's Rodney hurrying in. His busy face on. Radek's close behind... looking concerned, glancing anxiously at John's bags stashed ready on the floor, and then at John. His eyes meeting John's and then, they both turn away, embarrassed. Radek quickly gets the Jumper opened and scuttles inside to get out of the way, like sensing an impending storm...

"Sorry about the delay... Something came up... scanning for the Apollo... not your problem though," says Rodney bluntly. He brushes past John to follow Radek but John quickly grabs him by the arm stopping him.

"Rodney. I don't want to leave."

Rodney glances down at John's hand that still holds him tight. So John lets go.

"I don't want to leave. I'd already decided that before you came into my room."

Rodney has continued moving onto the hatch ramp, and stops, looking into the interior, thinking about what John has just told him.

"Then... why on earth didn't you say?... Why did you let me go on like that?... And... and... say all those things?" And he returns to John but still won't look at him. Eyes looking at everything in the hangar but not John.

"Perhaps... I deserved it..."

"And... and... why did you shut yourself in your room like that? Just to get canned? We all thought... you just didn't want to know... you know?" And Rodney looks at him then, blue eyes that want to understand. But John can't bear that and now it's him, looking away, turning away, studying the neighbouring Jumper.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Going crazy, I guess." And Radek is banging inside, as if deliberate, because he doesn't want to overhear this. Doesn't feel he ought. And Rodney glowers hard into the Jumper as if about to object, but then he's back with John.

"You need help," confirms Rodney, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah. You told me that, remember?" says John hoarsely, putting his hands in his pockets. It's his way of apologizing. To agree. He wanders off a little... because he needs to explain some more. "You asked me once, why I came... I thought it would _help_ to come here... but it made things worse... and you guys have your own problems..." He's thinking of grief for the other Sheppard but Rodney takes it as general.

"Nothing we can't handle," he replies, squaring and pushing back his shoulders. And John pulls a face because its as good as saying he can't...

"Sorry," says Rodney, "I didn't mean... that... I think... you..."

"I can't... that's the trouble... you want me to be like your Sheppard... like my old self even, I dunno... but I... can't... The drink... I'm not your John... I'm no good at dealing with things..."

"I'm sure you can be... your old self again... give it time..."

"I had eight months, Rodney," points out John sourly.

"You're wrong anyway... we never wanted a substitute... we just want to be friends again... we just want to be let in again..."

Sheppard accepts the assurance without comment and carries on, still feeling he isn't explaining himself very well... this is why he shut himself in his room... kept away from everyone... because he can't explain... well, he's got to now...

"It's ok with Tagan... but you others... I... just see you... dead... dying... about to die... all the time now... and it's driving me... crazy... I can't seem... I dunno..."

"Well, for the want of a better word... and its one that the shrinks would use, I'm sure... you mean... bond?" Offers Rodney, chuckling dryly.

"Yeah. Yeah. Bond." Though even that doesn't feel anything like the right word.

And Rodney, comes down from the ramp... "You know... perhaps we're to blame... we thought you needed space... When we should have thought the opposite... never left you alone... you... you... should have been opening up like this a whole lot sooner... but our Sheppard found it hard too... to talk... so I know... that things are bad if you actually _say_ anything... you're not really so very different you know..."

And John faces him. "No. I am. And you guys are different... you're not my Team. They're still... in here...." and he points to his head. "I still see them... I still see the ghosts, Rodney... All the memories. It's all still fresh. And it's worse here... I see you guys..."_ ghosts that are living, breathing..._ "...round me all the time... And my Team... I didn't get to say goodbye to any of them... And... there's that feeling that... I need to be with them... and I thought that coming here... would put that all right... but it's whole... undamaged here on Atlantis... and I'm the only missing piece... You think that you saved your... Sheppard by bringing me here... a sort of surrogate... but I can't... save _my Team_... ever... They're dead. Finished. Over. It's ended. I feel like... I can't... I can't start over... not with you guys..."

And that was quite some outpouring and he's looking at Rodney appealing... for help... and Rodney just doesn't know which part of all that he's supposed to respond to first...

"John-"

And suddenly Radek's poking his head out of the Jumper's hatch and coughs... "Rodney?"

"Not now, Radek! Can't you see I'm talking?!"

"Sorry... Rodney..." and Radek points to his radio, "But it's Chuck... you... um... forgotten... your radio isn't on... " And Rodney abruptly reaches for his ear piece, listening to the tech at the other end.

"Look, switch off and try again!... no... no... no!... It just has to be an error!... nothing can travel that fast... at least... nothing we can track... No... No!... look, I'm on my way back..." And he flicks the radio off.

"Emergency... I have to go..." he apologises to John, who nods.

"Radek! Clear up and then get yourself out of there! We're needed back upstairs!... Sorry... " he says again and hurries off to the exit, and then turns round, walking backwards and calls out, "we'll... er... have to finish this... later... a beer... no... that's water for you!" And he goes off again... and stops again... another thought... "Warn you though! We'll be in your face 24/7 from now on! You won't have time to even breathe!" And he disappears finally with a slight wave.

And John watches the exit door... sees this Rodney standing there still... sees the ghost of Rodney standing there... 'go and live'... and they're the same... similar... they merge... become one... trust... faith... both a belief that Sheppard _will_... go and live.

Less than a minute.

And instinct kicks in...

-oAo-

He's running up three sets of stairs and then into the light of the Gateroom. Not far behind Rodney.

"You're shielding already? And evacuating?"

"Yes. But it's belt and braces. No way can they trace us. As a precaution, I want Teyla's people out of here."

The Athosians are crowding, quickly filling the space, calling children close, carrying what personal belongings they can. A sea of browns and beiges. Starting to filter through the Gate. There's no sign of Teyla. She should be here. Rodney and John weave and battle their way through them, two men going against the people flow coming down the steps.

They have to raise their voices to be heard above the clamour.

"You _are_ going to radio them?" John checks.

"Yes... Yes. That's all sorted. Our 'new improved, super squeaky clean' frequency code is in place that we hope they won't be able to locate... if they do..." and Rodney's at a console already and can speak normally now... "if their intentions aren't... honourable... we'll follow the Athosians through the Gate... I'm... not fighting..."

And John stands beside him. Nodding. Understanding. This is a different Rodney. A Rodney in command. Whose had to teach himself, often the hard way, how best to carry out his job.

"You're going to leave Atlantis as a decoy to give yourself enough time to... disappear?"

"Yeah... and then more some... if Apollo is nothing more than a tool of the Trust... I intend to blow Atlantis up... the Trust isn't going to get their hands on her."

Rodney is tooing and froing between consoles, correcting, assessing over Amelia's and Chuck's respective shoulders.

"I thought your plan was to escape _with_ Atlantis?"

And Rodney looks directly up at him. "We'd be running forever, John, don't you think? This way we won't seem like we're worth the bother..."

John pulls a face. "It's all feels a bit drastic and... I'm not gonna question your reasoning here..."

Rodney straightens. "Go on! Finish it! _But_..." and he does a rolling gesture with his hand.

"If Apollo is Trust... you _do_ need to fight... you do need to get Atlantis back to Earth to fight these guys."

And it feels odd. For John. He's not done this for a long, long time. To stand in the Control Room. And feel... like... he needs to take control. And... he's not in uniform... jeans and a blue shirt so he feels out of place... and ten minutes ago... he was packed to leave... and forty five minutes ago he was sitting by a window... drinking...

"Well, I'm hoping I won't have to make that decision... I'm hoping that they'll say 'Hi... we've missed you... we treated you badly and won't you please come home! All's forgiven.' " But his mouth is firmly set. Because he's not believing it. And he's remembering the Daedalus.

"And anyhow..." and he's busy typing now, "even if we did decide to fight... and perhaps you're right... but... oh dear, I appear to be right out of military commanders at the moment... the vacancy has been open for some time now but no one seems to want to apply... " And Rodney apologises immediately... "sorry... sorry that... just... slipped out..."

But John turns away, trying not to show that he's taken the criticism heavily... He walks over to the rail to watch the Athosians leaving. There's still no sign of Teyla and the boys. Or Ronon. Perhaps he's helping her. Perhaps they went through first. To check out the new site. That's why they hadn't made a show in the Jumper Bay. To say goodbye...

Radek comes scurrying in, breathless, and takes a place at an empty console.

"It's ok," and Rodney's still in high sarcastic form. "We managed without you."

Radek rolls his eyes and embarks on a whole list of complaints about getting tools, taking tools down to the jumpers, getting tools out, packing tools away, and how he never signed on to be a general dogsbody... and then... he goes serious. "I do not think so."

"What?" and Rodney is frowning because Radek hasn't made a lot of sense suddenly.

"I do not think it is ok."

And both Amelia and Chuck are nodding in agreement.

"What?! Let me see! Let me see!" and Rodney goes quickly over to his own screen. "What is that thing?" He says with a low hushed reverent voice.

"It is not an anomaly... as we previously thought... we have to assume it's another craft..." says Radek.

"At that speed, outside of hyperdrive... it's impossible..."

"Not a meteorite?" suggests John, coming over, leaning on the back of Rodney's chair, looking at his screen. And Rodney glances up at him... seeing Sheppard's face intent on the image there, and he's suddenly taken aback... and it suddenly occurs to Rodney... this John so natural... so naturally falling into his former Colonel's role... the same guy that was down in the Jumper Bay?... pouring out his heart... He didn't ask John to come up here... it was all so natural... unquestioning... second nature... inner programming... he doubted that John was even aware of just how natural it was... and Rodney has to persuade himself... inwardly pinch himself... that this isn't their Sheppard... their Sheppard is dead... but it's the same... the same tone of voice... the same manner... the same way of quickly coming up to speed... asking questions... offering answers... solutions... as if their Sheppard never left... or had returned to fight another day... and this is really what Rodney had always wanted... if he could have bent those lines and changed things... and Rodney quickly stirs himself from his thoughts and doesn't want to correct John... tell him it's derisory to be talking in terms of meteorites....

"Or any other space object that's giving you dumb readings?" finishes John.

And that's plausible. Magnetic interference. But...

"Um... Pretty certain it's not... as... it appears to have changed trajectory abruptly since we picked it up... it's now making... straight for the Apollo..."

-oAo-

"I'm going!"

"You so are not! And... and... that's an order!"

"It's what you brought me here for, isn't it?" And hell, he'd used that line on Elizabeth, way back when. To go and rescue Colonel Sumner. From under the very noses of the Wraith. With no intel. No idea what they were they were letting themselves into. And this was probably little better. A mission impossible.

"What is it with you? You have a death wish or something?!" and Rodney turns away. Regretting he'd said that... because once he'd said that... to another Sheppard...

"I'm the only one who knows where to hit this thing..."

And minutes later, John is in Jumper One anyway, heading directly for an unidentified craft, not Wraith... heading directly in its turn for the Apollo.

"I've fed you in a course, " says Rodney, over the radio. His voice calm and professional now, accepting the situation. And John thinks to activate the Heads Up.

"Yeah. I have it."

A straight line.

"It's not too late to reconsider," suggests Rodney, a slight hitch in his voice.

"I can do this." And he's not certain who he's trying to reassure. "This is the best way." The only way John had argued...

'Rodney... the speed of this thing... it has to be the same guys that in my reality took out Atlantis... that's how they sprung that attack on us... they came out of nowhere... I'm certain of it...'

'That's one thing you can't be... certain!'

'Rodney! Unless you weren't already scanning the area, trying out your new frequency systems, you wouldn't have spotted it either!'

And it'd been true... the thing was moving so fast... in actuality they were only picking up a residual energy fingerprinting and not the object itself...

'Apollo is a sitting duck. And these... aliens probably changed course believing that they'd been sent to help defend us. So... we've got to lend them a hand.'

'Don't you think I don't know that!' But helping was going to reveal Atlantis' position. But did that matter? Surely if they came to Apollo's aid, they'd be scoring points? And all would be forgiven.

They could never be certain...

They might be considered fools and turned on all the same...

And helping was going to use up vital power... What if they did still need to make an escape?

And should they really risk Atlantis anyway? When in John's reality's Atlantis had proven she had been unable to defend herself against these aliens.

Rodney was throwing in every argument he could.

'You want the deaths of another ship's crew on your hands?' And John wished he'd never said that. Because it hurt Rodney so deeply.

'Take Atlantis then,' Rodney had said surrendering.

But it was going to take too long to get powered up... to get Atlantis ready... she was too bulky... John could be there in a Jumper in half the time. Cloaked, smaller, alone, he'd be practically undetectable. Hopefully.

And the one big deciding factor. The one thing that Rodney had been forced to concede on... the reason why John failed to take out these guys all those months ago... was Atlantis lack of manoeuvrability. The drones needed to target the one place on the ship... it's weak point... it's Achilles' heel... with Atlantis, John hadn't been able to get the drones close enough... hitting protrusions... buttresses... overhangs on the ship's hull... exploding on them... rather than in the designated strike area... if he could take the Jumper in closer... very close... he could fire the drones with maximum impact...

But Rodney didn't like it... hell, John didn't like it.

'You don't have to do this,' Elizabeth had said, when the plan had been virtually identical, to take out a Wraith hive, delivering a nuke right into a Dart hangar... not a mission impossible then... but a suicide mission...

'You know it's the only way,' he'd replied to Elizabeth.

'You know it's the only way.' His quiet voice to Rodney...

"I'm cloaking now. Be a good idea to maintain radio silence."

"Yeah. Copy that. And Colonel? John? Don't you dare not come back!"

A click in the transmission. And he was alone.

He thinks to dim the lights. He doesn't need them. And it's possible the new guys on the block can see him despite the cloaking. The last time they took on the Wraith, when a group of Wraith had attacked Earth with their souped up, customised version of a Hive, that had been the case. So he thinks it best to travel in darkness. And thankfully, peering out through the screen to check, the nearest sun isn't all that near... so no light should catch the hull of the Jumper.

And it's possible that darkness will help him concentrate... though he's done too much thinking in the semi-darkness of his quarters lately...

He wishes he hadn't been drinking... he would have liked a clearer head... well, who's fault is that?...

A drink now would be good though. He knows he's tense. And there's that heavy feeling between his ribs, above his stomach, that is dread.

What if he can't pull this off? Has he taken too much on? Too much is depending on him... for his first job since... and he glances at his hand on the controls... and in the dimness, he knows how the scars look. He's out of practice... been out of active duty for eight months... and for many of those months hadn't even taken regular exercise... he's out of condition... though he still likes to jog and walk... that had to count for something... and it's ok... he just has to think this... think the drones through... it was just getting the hell out of there afterwards that might be tricky...

An hour to kill. Perhaps he should get some shut eye... put the Jumper on auto... There once was a time he could do that... on duty... on guard... on patrol... take the sort of sleep that offered rest and yet was still alert to all that was around him... but now... he can't even sleep, full stop...

He remembers that he's forgotten to ask where Teyla and Ronon were. Teyla and the boys must be safe by now. Surely Rodney would see to that... He hadn't said goodbye... and this was starting to feel like the last time... he mustn't think about that... he mustn't... this was now... he had to think about now...

He recalls playing with Tagan. While Teyla fed JJ. Building towers with brightly coloured bricks on the floor. So Tagan could knock them down again. With hysterics. And it jarred on John a little that the kid found such fun in destruction.

'Dada luff.' The boy had suddenly said.

'What?' For a moment, he couldn't make out what the Tagan was trying to say.

'Dada luff.'

'No. Dada can't... laugh.'

'Tagan make dada luff.'

'No. He can't.'

'Tagan can.' And the boy had lifted the hem of his shirt.

'Hey!' John had protested. And the boy's fingers had found his ribcage and had started wriggling, tickling. 'Hey! Stop!'

But the boy didn't stop and he was laughing. 'Tickle, Dada! Tickle!' bringing two hands into play directly onto John's stomach. And John had frowned, and then couldn't stop himself, a half chuckle, trying, but not too hard to push the boy away. 'Get out of it, will you!'

'No!' squealed Tagan. 'Won't.' And he was climbing all over John, and John fell onto his back and couldn't fight the boy off, who was mad at him now, tickling all over. And John was laughing now too. Couldn't stop himself.

'I think, perhaps, you should have practised more self defence,' observed Teyla, smirking with a raised brow at the noisy pair on the floor.

And it got noisier, when John got his own back and finally tickled Tagan. And John was laughing so much, he had to wipe a tear...

John shakes his head at the memory. Sometimes they're good.

And Teyla had said: 'it is good to see you happy.'

-oAo-

Damn! Rodney must have gotten the figures wrong.

The plan was for John to intercept the alien ship, at that point when it just _had_ to decelerate if it were to take the Apollo. Before any engagement. That way the Jumper wouldn't get caught up in any cross fire.

But here was John, a full... what six minutes away? And the Apollo was already being fired upon, and, as far as John could tell, was getting little off in the way of retaliation. Certainly the Asgard beam hadn't been called into play... or had... and it'd already been taken out of action. And the Apollo seemed as if it were firing from only the aft rail guns. Again, perhaps the stern guns had already been destroyed. By the looks of the amount of debris flying off in all directions from blinding flash explosions, things were certainly going badly for the Apollo and had been for plenty enough time. This degree of damage had to mean that that energy levels were low and the shield depleted. The fact that the Apollo wasn't making any attempt at escaping suggested that it's hyperdrive was out of action... hell, the fact that they weren't _moving_ meant that even basic drive systems were down. Perhaps they'd been forced to transfer all residual power to what was left of their weapons array in a last final ditch effort to fight off their attackers. Then John was nearly too late...

And John winced at the thought of what those guys must be going through in there...

Perhaps Rodney hadn't gotten it wrong... perhaps it was simply that this ship had the capability to maintain this velocity and then slam on the brakes, as it were, at the last minute... going into surprises in a serious way... whatever... but John wished now, he even had a millionth of that sort of speed.

And closer up now... he could see that this _was_ the same as the ship that had attacked his Atlantis. The same shimmering, almost mercury, almost liquid looking front end... rounded but pointed... drone like... that must account for its super rate of acceleration... though streamlining was never a prerequisite for speed in space... but somehow, it must have helped. It was certainly acting as some sort of protection, the craft being held at an angle, so that this was all that the Apollo was seeing. Sheppard's Rodney had been right all those month's ago? Their shield generation was their weakest feature?

Though smaller than the Apollo, it was undeniably more lethal. Firing out that single blue dazzling pulse, generated from a point just behind that bullet like front, that seemed to flick off fragments of Apollo's hull like kicking up a pile of autumn leaves. The remainder of the vessel appeared clumsy though... as if extensions had been scavenged from every scrap yard in Pegasus and bolted on at random. With giant bolts even, thought John. And it was this section, that John had to infiltrate...

And life suddenly got complicated... dodging hunks and bits of Earth ship thrown out, already caught in an eternal drift in the vacuum of space. This was going to slow him down no end.

And should he radio ahead? That had never been his plan either. They had wanted to keep Atlantis' involvement in this to a minimum, in case Apollo wasn't too friendly... And there was always the possibility that the aliens' technology was so much superior that it'd detect a transmission even on an overt frequency. And Apollo might feel it would need to cease fire to give him a clear run but it really didn't ought. There was some benefit to be gained from Apollo keeping the aliens occupied, so they wouldn't pick up John, even if the Apollo was doing little more than stone chipping the aliens' chrome work... hopefully they'd managed to soften things up a little for him and had weakened that shield... hopefully...

So now, damn, he was sorta dodging bullets... and thanks to the HUD for telling him that... as if he didn't know already. Lips pressed firmly together as he concentrated. Friendly fire... and the Apollo didn't even know it... but it seemed the aliens didn't either...

In no time, the alien ship loomed up full in the windscreen. Cold and granite grey. The little Jumper taking a few buffeting blows, and to John, who was trying to steer a steady course, it felt noisy in his head... though you can't hear sound in space... that's just how it felt... He was easing the Jumper round a jutting out section, twenty stories high... flashes and explosions making him flinch...

…and then the part he was after... tucked behind that bulbous head... recognised it... remembered it through the vision of a drone... and that made him wince too... that memory... that brief moment... when the alien ship had turned on him... and destroyed the Chair...

...a channelled out section... two hundred yards long... just like Star Wars... and the Jumper wasn't thrown aside... wasn't bounced off a shield... so luck was in... and the theory was right... the shield was inconsistent... reserving power for either subspace drive... or weapons fire...

...a channelled out section... two hundred yards long... just like Star Wars... large enough to hold a Jumper... just... with only inches to spare on either side... but he was reluctant to slow down... much... only too aware that the Apollo was running out of time... The channel offered shelter from the battle above, so it seemed quieter here but in reality was no safer... He knew that... up close it was likely the ship had sensors that could detect him... cloak or no... and the HUD was bleeping at him with warnings of imminent collision... one false move was all it would take... one false move and he'd touch the ship's outer surface...

...he hadn't lost it... he hadn't lost this ability...

...one hundred yards and he allowed the jumper to hover... his target... a dark enclave immediately ahead...

He was holding his breath as he released the drones. Six, Rodney had decided ought to do it... fired in quick succession to generate some sort of heat fusion... to gain more cutting power against the hull... he'd fired twenty or more on Atlantis but these were dead hits... couldn't fail... leaving him the remaining two... just in case, he needed some defence to get out of there... though John had already decided that he'd make a return run and redeploy those too if the first six failed... no point coming all this way...

…the fire ball was instantaneous... billowing directly down the channel like some sort of funnel... even John was taken by surprise... he yelled... and out loud, told the Jumper to get the hell out of there, going up straight and vertical and fast...

...Crap! Crap! Crap!...

The HUD going loopy. Outer hull temperature too high... radiation... more warnings of collision... trajectory of flight incompatible with safety protocols... incoming missiles... you name it and it was there... stating the obvious... a bang that _could _be heard... and the Jumper seemed to be doing pirouettes end on... the way the view spun in the windscreen told him that...

...inertial dampeners were still ok... but John broke control... couldn't help it... something was wrong... _where are you?... where are you?... _and held the hand controls demanding manual flight... when that failed... he slapped the thought override button... and brought the Jumper to something near manageable... but it pulled, veered to port side... and port side brought him closer to the ship... a ship that was disintegrating, cracking those bolts open, splitting sections of plating, as gases and flames pushed out... he was effectively skimming along what was left of the hull... hitting stuff that was thrown out... a grating, grinding sound... _what's wrong?... what's_ _wrong?... _but even the HUD wasn't telling him... a series of meaningless lines and squiggles all over the holo... this is when he needed a co pilot...

...another bang... and the Jumper jerked violently nearly knocking the controls out of his hand... damn... fighting for control again... still veering to the left... then... he figured it out... power to an engine pod out... slammed on auxiliary power... and that helped... could hold a straight line... could even steer away but he needed all his strength... like pulling an old Cessna out of a dive... something he'd been taught in early pilot lessons... but speed at a minimum... and he needed to get away... this was like running up the down escalator...

…a blue flash... these guys firing on him?... they could still do that?... and hell... sure... the Jumper's cloaking had failed too, hadn't it?

…perhaps they'd miss a few more times... the Jumpers are built to withstand almost anything, bragged Rodney... they can stand re-entry into a planet's atmosphere... that was proof of that...

...he wasn't sure what he heard... if anything... his hearing went instantly... pressure even on his eyes... they were open... he was sure of that... but everything went black... and when he could see again... was when an oxygen mask dropped down from the ceiling and dangled in front of his face... it could do that?... and he had just enough energy to fight against the pressure, against the pain that was on his lungs, and reach up... and grab for it... and gasp and gasp... like he'd never breathed before...

...when he could see again... slow motion and weird... slow motion and weird... and silent and deadly... as the zigzag crack in the Jumper's windscreen just got bigger, starting from the gaping hole above the co pilot's seat...

…watching... starting to shiver... a coldness like that of the Antarctic... but darker... a creeping deadness... that was already numbing his face and hands... how long could he last without a suit?... with only a shirt?...

...nothing he could do but watch... couldn't move from the mask... though his body was already lifting from the Chair in the zero gravity... closer to the windscreen...

…the composite glass fractured suddenly... he managed to hold up his right arm... watching... watching as splinters, fragments turned... a weird slow motion vortex... that snagged him in... ice diamonds, glinting daggers caught in this weird slow motion... but they still hurt... still caused pain... still sliced and tore into cold blue skin... he cried out... but... no sound...

…watched... watched... mesmerised... as goblets of red blood left his side, his leg, his arm... drifting like macabre miniature balloons... his blood and he could do nothing to stop it...

…good-bye... and no one would hear it...

…watched as his vision blurred... failing...

...the beach... throwing bottles into the sea... his silent goodbyes that sunk beneath the waves...

-oAo-


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

...watching... waiting...

...breaths short and laboured...

…watching as... a film formed in front of him... his eyesight failing?... no... the Jumper... the Jumper was repairing itself... protecting him... a film forming across the windscreen... it could do that too?... hey... better than a turkey sandwich any day... a hissing sensation in his skull... he couldn't hear... he guessed it was the artificial gravity returning... as he'd slumped back down in the pilot's seat... but the pressure... he'd get the bends for sure... but perhaps the hole had been repaired a whole lot faster than he'd thought... he'd no concept of the passing of time...

...now... now... he'd got to help himself... and fast...

And Rodney had said... 'go and live'... and yeah, once more... easier said than done...

He tried looking to the back... but couldn't turn... glanced down to his blood drenched clothes... the glass protruding from his side... he wasn't even gonna be able to crawl to get to the first aid box...

With just the forefinger and thumb of his dud hand, he managed to pull on the strap for the oxygen mask... to free up his hands... still trembling... shock... cold... he couldn't tell... grunting against the pain even that effort caused... but the oxygen would help... he mustn't pass out... not till he'd radioed the Apollo... assuming they'd want to help him... assuming they were still there... assuming the alien ship had actually been destroyed... he could see nothing through the windscreen...

"Apollo. This is..." and he had to gasp against the pain... fight the blackness coming in at the edges... "Jumper One pilot. Do you read?" Wouldn't give them his name. Might confuse things.

Nothing but static. Or his hearing hadn't stabilised. Or both.

_Come on... Jumper... do this for me... come on... get the message through... _an empty silent prayer really... as he remembered his eyesight wasn't the only failing thing around here... the mind control link had gone too...

"Apollo-"

"-Yeah... heard..." More static... more background noise. He'd just got to hope they'd hear him... even if he couldn't hear them.

"Taken on some damage... couldn't... need... a lift."

"Not... so hot. No beam to... Make... own way. Key's under the doormat... over."

He swallowed and held his head back against the seat, closing his eyes tight... to both fight the nausea and to pick up the strength to do this...

Breathing hard into the mask... his left hand went heavily to the controls... and his right... fuck! fuck!... a fragment of glass had gone clean through the palm... couldn't understand... couldn't understand how he hadn't felt it... no way could he place two hands back on the controls... and he glanced down further... the reminder… how bad... the gashes in his side were... how was he going to do this?

_...come on, Jumper... help me here... come on, Jumper... come on..._

And she responded... he didn't know how that could happen... a survival interface?... like the wind shield?...

_Just get me there... I don't care how... just get me there..._

_...need to go and live..._

-oAo-

"Give him something to bring him round!"

"Sir?"

"You bring him round!"

"We've only just stabilised him. It will kill him, Colonel! He needs surgery-"

"-If you don't bring him round, if we don't find out where Atlantis is, we'll _all_ be dead... Bring him round!"

"It's against my-"

"-I don't care! Bring him round! I need him to talk-and fast!" And the medic reluctantly hurries off and returns with a needle and a bottle and fills up the needle. "It's a stimulant. You won't have long... his heart won't take this sort of treatment..."

And Ellis hated to do this. The monitors on the Bridge had just shown them what Jumper One Pilot had done for them. But it hadn't been enough. The Apollo needed somewhere... to make urgent repairs. Hyperdrive out... shielding out... weapons ninety nine per cent compromised... life support under severe duress... if they didn't move quickly they were... like he'd said... all dead... they needed the safety of Atlantis... and since this Sheppard... who ever he was... appeared in a Jumper... Atlantis couldn't be far away... but Atlantis wasn't responding to any communications... though he could understand that...

And this Sheppard slowly opens his eyes... looks sick as hell... lying there... blood already seeping through bandages wrapped round the fragments of glass in his side, hand and leg... and Ellis knows he's just had a tough battle... but he's just got to put him through some more...

"Take away the mask... I need him to talk or didn't I say?" And Ellis can't help being like this... he's had it rough too, perspiration wet on his skin and grime from the small electrical fires that had broken out all over the Bridge... he's seen half his crew killed or injured...

The mask is removed.

"Know where you are?"

This Sheppard blinks, struggles to keep those eyes open, then seems to remember...

"What are you? A clone?" snaps out Ellis. Because he needs to know too, what he's dealing with here.

"No. Rodney... McKay brought me... another reality," Sheppard grits out.

"He did?" and Ellis is surprised but he has to move on quickly. Sheppard is already struggling... his breathing tight and short, shifting to get comfortable, which hurts more. "I need to know where Atlantis is."

"I... bet." And even just two small words, causes the guy's face to screw up with the pain.

"No." Meaning it had nothing to do with the Daedalus. "I need to land Apollo somewhere safely. Quickly. Life support is failing. To make repairs. Got too many injuries. To get the hell away from here... before anyone else comes and picks us off... Enough reasons? We wouldn't have this problem... but apparently you sabotaged the Jumper's navigational history, so we can't extract that data... You'd be safe in surgery by now... out of it... but I've asked the medics to bring you round. You can sleep once I have those co-ordinates... understand?"

"Sounds like... sound like the torture of a prisoner to me... No way... to treat someone who's just saved your ass..."

The medics are getting concerned. "It's his blood pressure, Colonel, hurry."

"You heard," says Ellis.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Assurances first," Sheppard hisses out, pressing his head hard into the pillow, trying to escape the agony somehow. "Why... why... are... you... in... Pegasus?"

"I haven't time for this-"

"-Me... less... Why are you here?"

Ellis shakes his head disbelieving. "Co-ordinates first. I'll explain later."

"No. Not... the deal..."

"Co-ordinates and you can go to sleep."

"No!" And Sheppard tries to curl over, tries to ease the rack that Ellis has put him on, breaths gasping and hitching.

"Colonel, you have to let us give him something... now!"

"The oxygen!" And the mask goes back on. And Sheppard is panting into the mask. And Ellis can see his eyes rolling before he passes out. "Take it away!" And the medic does as instructed.

"Co-ordinates Colonel and you can have something for the pain."

"No." But he's nearly out of it... eyes glazed and unfocussed, forcing out the words. "Why... are... you here?"

And Ellis sees how far Sheppard is prepared to go. Gives his explanation as brief as he can make it. Assuming this Sheppard knows all the details. "The ones responsible for Sheppard's death have been arrested and Sheppard and Woolsey have been fully exonerated. However, Command are not fully satisfied with the explanation of the destruction of the Daedalus. I've been sent to arrest Dr. McKay, Teyla and Ronon and anyone else I think may be implicated."

"Not going to happen..." Sheppard growls out.

"Sorry?"

"A pardon. Then you can have... Atlantis..."

"Blackmail?"

"Don't... act... shocked... what you're... doing... to me... don't come close..." And it's all effort.

"A pardon's not in my remit... you know that..."

"Your word... that's all... you won't touch them... you'll get their pardon... later..."

"You wouldn't dare withhold that info knowing that you're risking the whole of the Apollo... just for those three?"

"Try me... remember... I'm not your Sheppard... you don't... you don't know me..."

"It's your butt too you're risking..."

"Sir? His heart..." And Sheppard seems to choke, his body shakes in spasms.

"Give me the co-ordinates, Sheppard! Now! This is killing you!"

"You'll... have to... wait..."

And the medic shakes his head, desperately... "Sir!"

"We haven't time to argue this!"

"No... _you_... haven't..."

"Co-odinates and you can have something for the pain!"

"You think... I care?... I've... suicide mission... or didn't you see?" Monitors are bleeping out warnings...

"Sheppard! Sheppard!"

And Sheppard is twisted up with all this hurt... an arm going to his side... which suddenly goes limp..

"Sir!"

"Give him oxygen! Dammit! I can't promise anything!... You trusting me? If I give you my word... you trusting me? Not to go back on it?"

"Yeah..." muffled through the mask... And that does it for Ellis. That does it. Because Sheppard had known all along... how far to push this... and how valuable that word was... how valuable Ellis giving his word was... it never came cheap... respect from Sheppard... respect for Sheppard...

"You have it! Where's Atlantis?! Tell me! Shit, Sheppard, tell me!"

A voice faint, that Ellis barely hears, "Athos."

And he bends over the bed, places his head close to Sheppard's. "Where?! Repeat that?! Where?! Where?!"

"He said Athos! Now stand back, Colonel! Give us room!"

And Ellis stands back. Horrified that he's just done this thing. Taken this right to the brink. That they've called one another's bluff. He doesn't leave. Doesn't react to his intel. immediately. Watching as medics fire stats at one another. Low bp. Heart rate. Admin of meds. And then the monitor flat lines. And resuss. commences. And the paddles jolt at the chest. With little effect.

And Ellis turns. Sick at heart. Because he's seen Lorne's video and that alone is one Sheppard death too many.

He taps his earpiece.

"Bridge. A course for Athos. And someone release Major Lorne from the brig."

-oAo-


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

The sea slaps up against the pier. Today... its a sort of muddy chocolatey brown and the sky is overcast and there's drizzle from time to time... and when it stops... and the sky clears a little... then it doesn't feel quite so chilly... though Rodney still pulls his collar tight and wonders who's idea it was to have a barbecue outdoors anyway... and figures it must have been Ronon's... he with the water proof, cold proof, weapon proof skin, who only seems to wear a coat as a fashion statement... so why isn't _he_ out here? Instead of huddled up with the others in the dry of the nearest corridor... and why is Rodney's head is so full of weather reports?... and he thinks it's left over from his Commander days when these things might have been important...

And shouldn't this be the new Commander's job anyway?... and not the head of science?... just because said smart ass Commander had figured it was combustion and combustion was science... but shouldn't it be the new Commander's job anyway to come out in the rain and make sure that the charcoal hadn't gone out for the umpteenth time... because wasn't it the new Commander's job to ensure the safety... and oh, _comfort_... of all personnel on the Expedition. Of course, they had all argued that Rodney would eat the most anyway... but he'd seen the new Commander fairly tuck in of late... making up for lost time no doubt...

It's been a month now... and someone thought that was worth celebrating... a month since they had been pardoned and had returned Atlantis to the sea... and someone had said it was their birthday... which was surprising... as no one had ever managed to wheedle that out of that someone... Tagan had though... he could do some pretty nifty torture by tickling, that kid could...

Rodney cups a hand over the coals and blows, which stirs a flame, and then he stands back to apply more lighter fluid... it whooshes and nearly singes his hand... that's why he shouldn't do it... Jenny's warned him enough times but... it's all in a good cause...

He glances up as a bird calls high above... knowing it will be the aschatee who has returned with them... circling overhead... a good omen... soon the weak weather front will pass and the sky and the sea will be back to crystal blue...

A month ago... and he'd never thought he'd be doing this... so mundane... life goes in waves... though the dangers from outside remained the same... no, they'd doubled... the Wraith, and now these new aliens... who had been spotted twice since the Apollo incident... but hadn't come close...

He looks to the gliding bird again, now the drizzle has eased and he doesn't have to squint. His fingers go to the video still hanging at his neck... it's his aschatee... his albatross... his burden round his neck...

'It's an obsession, Rodney.... prove it's not... destroy the video...' And even now he can't... not ready... not ready...

'Next leave... next leave... we can visit the grave... then I guess I'll be ready...' he had said to Jenny.

And once, the alternative Sheppard had mentionned the need to say good bye... that he had needed closure... and it was no different for Rodney...

...they couldn't believe his injuries... when the Apollo had arrived and Lorne had assured them that everything was going to be ok and Rodney had de-cloaked and had allowed the Apollo to land... Sheppard was still in surgery... nearly died of the blood loss alone... and he'd no sooner come round after half a day and he was back in surgery again with a haemorrhage...

...clutching at Rodney's hand... 'I only wanted to say good-bye... that's all I ever wanted...'

His voice faint... and dying... His words like those of a ghost once heard in Atlantis' corridors...

'And you're not saying it now! You hear! You're not saying it now! You're not going to die! I didn't bring you back so that you die! That wasn't the deal!'

...and he'd fought... which surprised Rodney... he didn't think he would... this Sheppard... though he should have known... from the things that Ellis had said... but Rodney had thought that the hurt had gone too deep...

'You idiot,' Rodney had said when Sheppard had come round the second time, referring to way Sheppard had gotten Ellis on their side.

'You needed saving.'

'We didn't. Not like that.'

'You needed saving.'

'Ok! Ok! I admit it! We needed saving!'

...and then Earth had said that Sheppard II could have the position of Sheppard I. That the loss of the use of three fingers made little difference... in fact... would he like the job of Commander? And Sheppard wasn't sure about any of this... and it was the same old thing... perhaps Sheppard II couldn't replace Sheppard I just like that... perhaps the drinking might re-occur... though he had sworn abstinence this time and really meant it... he really did... and for his sake, they'd all kept it quiet from Command...

...perhaps he should return to his Earth... Why was the man so self-doubting? Rodney had thought that once Sheppard had gone through all the hero stuff, everything would be ok... a sort of baptism of fire...

...and Ronon was told to take him away and persuade him... _again_... because Ronon seemed to be good at that sort of thing... persuading... and was told not show his face again until he had... not that a threat like that from Rodney would ever scare Ronon... but Ronon had agreed all the same... and they had gone hunting together for two days... or rather Ronon had, and Sheppard had limped around behind him or had taken long naps on the side of some river, while Ronon had fished bare-handed and cooked them wholesome suppers with herbs and stuff that Jenny and Teyla had said were good for him... and he had returned and...

'Well? Are you staying?'

'Ye...ah. On one condition.' And Rodney found himself so relieved he didn't care particularly what the condition was.

'Find us some sea. Some ocean. I don't care where. Anywhere. As long as it's sea.'

And later... well, Rodney just had to pester Ronon.

'Come on... what's your secret? What did you say to him?'

'Not telling.' And he didn't. Wouldn't for four days. And then weakened. So Rodney thought...

'We had a whole bottle of Satequila and got blind drunk and that made things look different, better, somehow.'

'You didn't!' said Rodney, both appalled and shocked. Because Ronon had been told to watch Sheppard and not let him do things like that. And Sheppard was still on medication anyhow.

'No. I didn't,' replied Ronon with that what-do-you-take-me-for-kind-of-look. And then wouldn't say what had happened for a further two days.

'This is what I told Sheppard to do, McKay,' when Ronon had finally relented. 'And this is what I did once as a Runner. Otherwise, I would have gone crazy. After losing Melena. After losing our Sheppard. A Satedan custom among the elders, that had died out when we got... civilised. My grandfather spoke of it.' And Rodney had to resist the violent urge to roll his eyes and to scoff. 'You take a stone... and it cannot be any stone... it's one that you choose from many... because at the time of choosing... it means something to you... and you heat the stone over flames... till it is as hot as you can bear to touch... and you pick up the stone-'

'-What?! Why would anyone want to do that?! That would, you know... _hurt? _Wouldn't it?'

'That's the idea.'

'Oh.'

'It represents your pain, your problem that is an obstacle to you... one you cannot see around... a cliff... a rock-face... you take the stone and throw it into calm still water-'

'-So... it's best to do this right beside the water... so it doesn't get to hurt that much?'

'Yes. You throw the stone in an arc... and allow the water to take the burden... you say in your head, what you want to end... you chose some good words... the reflection of the arc in the water turns your problem around... '

'It's inverted.'

And Ronon shrugged, 'I suppose... What ever is bothering you, then the reverse happens... it doesn't bother you any more... Also, it gets caught in an eternal circle... top and bottom of the arc.. and a line gets put through it... the surface of the water... and it can't return past the line... and with the ripples on the surface... it disappears forever...'

'And this works?'

'It did, didn't it? You see Sheppard now?... And McKay?'

'Yeah?'

'You should try it.' And he goes to leave, patting Rodney on the arm.

'I should?'

'Yeah.'

And Rodney looks at the sea now. And it's as calm as it'll ever be. He has no stones. But he has a burden round his neck. He has images in his head that won't go away... and they need to go away now... His Sheppard wouldn't have wanted him to remember him that way... dying on the floor of a cell... he would have wanted to be remembered in moments like these... friends coming together... for a meal... to talk... and linked to all that are the deaths of the Daedalus crew... which he had no control over... but sometimes... sometimes when people don't see... he feels so screwed up inside, he's sick... and he hasn't even told Jenny... but Jenny helps him... by being there for him... and being busy helps... and he has been busy a lot lately.... but he just wishes the feeling would go... he just wishes it would go...

And he has fire. What... like a caveman? No... this is voodooism... superstition... but it'd helped Sheppard... He slowly removes the necklace from around his neck and drops it into the flames... it smokes with foul black plastic fumes instantly... he hesitates... clenching and unclenching his fists... grabs it... and ow! Ow! Ow! and throws it high into the sky... a dark speck against the clouds... that drops silently into the waves...

"Good bye, buddy... good-bye, John Sheppard... it was good to know you... and I want to remember you always... but well, the good times, you know?... and I know I've said good too many times... but... you know... it was good, wasn't it?... It was good, I think... It was always good..."

And he turns to go in the building... to see John standing there in the doorway... to one side... in the shadows... an uncertain look on his face... whether to leave... or to come out onto the pier...

"Sheppard."

"Rodney."

"You... um... been there long?" And Rodney feels embarrassed. And he's holding his hurting hand that's throbbing so much now it's nearly making his eyes water. Or, something else was...

"No... I came out... make sure you were ok... that you hadn't fallen in the sea... or burnt yourself... or something... you've been a while..." and he approaches Rodney, walking past him, to look out to sea... a distant look in his eyes.

And Rodney shakes his hand, cooling it through the air... "I had trouble... you know... getting the fire to start... and... yeah... did... um... burn my hand..." And this is awkward... how much did Sheppard see?... probably all of it...

"Yeah... easy to do..."

"I... um... got rid of it... well, no... not rid... exactly... more... a burial at sea..." he confesses, tapping the empty space at his chest. Might as well say.

"Yeah..." says Sheppard, softly as ever... "I saw... hurts, huh?"

"No," he lies, squeaking.

"You know... it's probably for the best..."

"I thought so... and... it helps, doesn't it? Ronon said it helped with you?"

"Yeah... though... I didn't do the heat thing..." and he smiles slightly.

"You didn't?"

"No... done too much damage to my hands lately... kinda didn't fancy that part..."

"Oh... well... I wished Ronon had said!" And then realised that it might have deliberate on Ronon's part... one of his practical jokes... "Ronon... huh?"

"Yeah... Ronon..."

"Coz it's all sort of symbolic and all that..."

Like throwing bottles into the sea... "Yeah... that..."

"But it helped?"

"Yeah. It... helped. But... it's like you once said... it takes time..."

"Wise old Rodney, huh?"

And Sheppard simply nods, his eyes following the aschatee gliding against the horizon.

"Time and... You guys have been good to me."

"Well, we aim to please."

"You can never replace... my guys though... however many stones..." bottles... "I get to throw... "

"But we come pretty damn close?"

"Yeah... pretty damn close." And he turns and smiles pensively now.

"And you..." says Rodney, "you know... you come pretty damn close too."

-oAo-

Rodney goes and collects the rest now that the fire is ready to cook.

And the sun comes out beautifully at that moment... and he complains about that being typical... and asks Jenny for cream for his hand because he has a burn on his palm.

"How did you manage to do that?!" she exclaims, carting him off to the Infirmary, leaving Ronon and John to set up the chairs outside and the playpen for the boys while Teyla watches holding Tagan and JJ tight. And Amelia starts unpacking food from ice boxes.

And John takes the boys from Teyla in turn and places them in the play area, wincing slightly with Tagan's weight, because there's pain in his side still if he's not careful... and their eyes meet... and John turns away quickly... as he always does... as she always does... when she catches herself... watching the way that his body moves... watching the sleeping strength that is there...

...he's lying in one of the beds in the Infirmary when she visits... asleep still... so peaceful... so like her John... like those times when they woke together in the early morning... and its good to see that it's true... that he has recovered sufficiently so that he is now free of all the tubes. Jenny hasn't dressed him in scrubs or gown... a slight raise in temperature made it preferable for John... and it's easier to check dressings... so a sheet drapes across his middle and Teyla finds herself... feeling... embarrassed?... feeling that she wants to... touch him?

...and she wants her fingers to trace the line of his brow... wants her fingers to follow a line down his nose and to gently stroke his lips... just how she used to with her John in those early mornings... to brush the back of her hand down his cheeks... round his chin, down his neck... to find the muscle that runs down into the collar bone... to run a hand over his shoulder, across his chest… to feel the strength of his arms... around her... to feel his lean body close to hers...

...she closes her eyes tight against this...

...but she misses this... she so misses this...

...and she sees the line of his hips beneath the sheets... so like her John... so like her John... but she cannot allow it... and hates herself... this is too soon... too soon... and she feels she is betraying her John... but it is the same John... in the Chair, she had been convinced that it was the same John... the same spirit... could it be?... all the realities... the same spirit, the same soul is shared?... that they were all somehow... one?... simply living different experiences in different realities... but when one dies... others live on?... there is never death as such... was... what she had felt in the Chair, proof of this?... and she shakes her head... for this is too complex... and perhaps mere mortals are never to know the answers... but it would mean, for her, that the two John Sheppards are, in essence, the same John...

...but this is still so wrong of her... to be looking at this John this way... for this John is still injured... and she looks up... and John has opened his eyes... his lashes fluttering as he tries hard to keep them open... but... he is smiling... smiling at her... 'Hey... Teyla...'

And she's flustered... wondering how much he saw... though he's still very sleepy... and she talks of his recovery... and she explains why she has not visited before... how she has been to Earth with Colonel Ellis through the Gate... how the Colonel wouldn't take her back until he had assurances that she would be treated fairly... how the Colonel had done this because of his promise to Sheppard... and together they have convinced Stargate Command... that the destruction of the Daedalus was nothing but a tragic accident... how Command understood the extraordinary circumstances of the incident... that this is Pegasus... Atlantis... and nothing is ever ordinary in Pegasus... and she talks of how kind they all were and of being taken to her John's grave... where she spent time being with her husband again... her farewell...

Though she doesn't say how she could not believe that her John lies beneath a white headstone when he is forever in her heart...

And this John is patient but struggles to keep awake... and is compelled to concede eventually... eyes closing... and his unbandaged left hand reaches for hers... does he know?... does he know what it is he is doing?... and she hesitates... is this right?... before gently touching his scars...

...her ending meets a new beginning... a circle...

...an end to grief...

-oAo-

And Rodney and Jenny are back, and everyone's settling down when Ronon, who's cooking, kicks over a bottle at his feet and sends it spinning to rest where Sheppard and Rodney are sitting side by side...

And Amelia says: "Truth or dare." And Rodney protests as it's halfway between the two men. But Jenny appoints herself as judge and says that the two of them have to go though with this.

And Sheppard hasn't a clue... and then he says: "Back on Earth... I was accused of five murders..." because he'd never told them, can't understand why... seemed little point... and he finds that he is holding back some things from these guys even now... though... he has told Teyla...

"You _were_ innocent?" asks a horrified Rodney.

"Rodney!" exclaim all three ladies together.

"Well, I only asked... we have to know!"

"It's ok... I was innocent... yeah..."

"And that was handcuffs... fingerprints... mug shots... third degree... the whole show?" asks Jenny.

"Yeah..." If only it had been that simple at the time... if only... "turned out the IOA actually did it... to protect my identity..."

"A bit extreme, huh?" asks Rodney.

"Now its your turn, Rodney," pushes Amelia.

"Oh, come on... don't you think this is so kindergarten! So teenage girls, huh? Aren't we supposed to be adults... setting an example in front of the kids... And I'm like an open book! Above repute! I have no secrets!-oh..." and he remembers the Wraith.

"What?" asks Jenny alarmed, wondering what exactly her husband is about to confess to...

"Nothing."

"No. What?" asks Ronon, from the back, suddenly interested.

"Nothing."

"Come on... you've got to tell now... you can't leave us all in suspense..." and Jenny punches him hard on the arm, curiosity now getting the better of her.

"Ouch! That hurt!"

"It'll hurt more if you don't tell!"

"The problem... the problem with the Alternate Reality... I didn't solve it... Todd and Kenny did... they came to Atlantis the night before... broke in somehow... there... see... it was nothing." Well, no one was ever going to believe that...

"But you took credit for this work?" points out Teyla, who's standing by the playpen, bouncing a restless JJ on her hip.

"Well, yes... if you put it like that... yes..."

"How else can you put it, Rodney?" asks Jenny.

"Well, I didn't exactly say I did it..."

"You just omitted to say _they_ had..." And John sips at a juice and looks at him over the top of the glass. And Rodney's not sure if he's serious- serious or just pretending-serious to give him a hard time. "Does this mean our security was compromised? They came here?"

"We're not supposed to be talking work, remember? And I've looked into it. It won't happen again."

"So... I have Todd to thank for being here?"

"I would have figured it out eventually... oh... but... oh... but does this mean you're glad you're here then?"

"Guess that does..." and he raises his glass to Rodney... and Amelia has bent down and spins the bottle again and this time it points firmly at Jenny.

"Oh... I thought we weren't going to play this again..." and it's Rodney who's concerned now, wondering what his wife is going to confess to...

"I just don't know what to say..."

"Oh come on... you must have some dark deep secret..." says Amelia.

"It's ok we can stop this now... you don't have to say anything..." insists Rodney.

"Well, I _can_ think of something... I'm pregnant... will that do?"

And Rodney coughs and splutters into his beer and has to patted hard on the back to stop him from choking.

"When? How?" he forces out, red in the face.

"You don't know how?" asks Ronon smirking. And everyone is laughing as Rodney, under his breath, tells Jenny how wonderful she is. And she kisses him back.

And later... Amelia and Jenny are straightening up... talking girl talk Rodney surmises... and all the food has gone and the sun is turning into one giant red fireball in purple cloud and two moons are appearing pale in the turquoise twilight sky... and Rodney lays back in his comfy chair, full and repleted... and that really is a good feeling... and sleepily watches with one eye as John and Teyla fuss over the children... and sees John's hand pass over Teyla's back... and Teyla responds by looking up to him smiling... and it really does feel good with the world then... and the children are wrapped in blankets and John comes over with a sleepy Tagan... and Rodney and John finish off the last of their drinks... watching the sun set on the horizon...

"You're a natural," says Rodney yawning. "With... with the boys..."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I'll have time for all this once I start as Commander.... and... You'll be fine..." though that's not what Rodney meant... it was just too good a night to feel worried about anything... the prospect of being a father... and all the hope that everything will be ok with Jenny...

"We lost our first baby, you know..."

"Yeah... Teyla told me... I'm sorry..."

"At the time, it was..." but he really doesn't want to talk about it. "That didn't happen in your reality?"

"They didn't get the chance..."

"No..." and they're quiet. And all that can be heard is the gentle shussing of the sea. And once Ronon laughs loud at something Amelia says.

"Life is a line. Discuss," says Rodney.

"Sorry?"

"We... Sheppard and I used to come out on the pier... share beers... talk..."

"Same here."

"Once... life is a line."

"Surely it sort of goes in waves," drawls John quietly into Tagan's hair, so as not to wake the boy who's fallen asleep now. "You know... bad, then good... then bad again... then good..."

"That's what he used to say..."

"So... who won?"

"And that was typical of him too... to see it in those terms... but you know... there's never a definitive answer..."

"You mean, you never wanted to be right either?" asks John incredulously.

"What?... oh... no... well, maybe... though most of the time I actually agreed with him.... but I've been sitting here thinking... Remember your Newton's natural law of inertia?"

"That's a long time ago..."

"Every body continues in its state of rest, or of uniform motion in a right line, unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed upon it. You know... that... to me, pretty well sums up life... everything is going along just fine... and then wham!... we get knocked out of that groove... chaos... and I guess that's what happened to you too... literally... you were in one reality... and we came along... and knocked you into ours..."

"Doesn't sound very scientific, Rodney..."

"Life isn't very scientific... it never follows rules... life is too complicated..."

"Too complicated, huh? Life isn't a straight line then..." You shouldn't think too much about such things, considers John. Because being here... and he holds Tagan closer... being here now... with these guys is all that matters...

The white shape of the aschatee comes out of the dusk suddenly, visibly startling Rodney, sweeping silently, ghostlike, in an arc over their heads, to land at the further end of the pier, flapping its giant wings clumsily before finally settling down to preen feathers.

"Spooked, Rodney?" A faint smirk in his tone.

"No... Ok... a little." _Souls of dead sailors. _"It... um... came home again."

"Yeah."

"Diomedea exulans... the exile comes home..." Rodney muses out loud, "I know this sounds... corny... but... like you..."

"Yeah. Like me."

Life is a circle. Discuss.

-oAo-

Epilogue

And Radek shakes his head. "I have no idea or ideas, Mr. Lennox... I am sorry... I am so sorry... I would not wish for the Colonel to come to any harm but I have no solution to offer... You wished for me to look at something?"

"Yes. Over here, if you would."

And Lennox leads him to one corner of the cordoned off area. The imprint of something familiar in the wet sand... not quite cleared by the tide. Large and rectangular. The space and dimensions of a Jumper.

And Radek smiles to himself... of course, a Dr. Rodney McKay, _somewhere_, would do such a thing...

End


End file.
